


I'll Point You Home

by halflingmerry



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, CW: bad prognosis (that gets beaten!), Dreams, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force theory 101, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Origins of the Whills, Sharing a Bed, accepting love even knowing loss, angst w HEA, droids rights, nonlinear, optional epilogue with separate content warnings, questions of choice, slowest of burns (skip to last chapter for that)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halflingmerry/pseuds/halflingmerry
Summary: 《 “You’re not asking the right questions. You want to know? Not what was 'done to me'. The choicesImade?" 》The war ends. WTF now?
Relationships: Bodhi Rook & Everyone, Cassian Andor & K-2SO, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Everyone & The Force, disproportionately Rebelcaptain but still a group effort, everyone ships it - Relationship
Comments: 245
Kudos: 132





	1. 3277 LY (K-2)

**Author's Note:**

> Two focal relationships, two songs:
> 
> C/K:  
>  _I think it's getting to the point where I can be myself again  
>  It's getting to the point where we have almost made amends  
> I think it's the getting to the point that is the hardest part_
> 
>  _but if you call, I will answer  
>  and if you fall, I'll pick you up  
> and if you court this disaster  
> I'll point you home._ [*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3-8gQmPvyo)
> 
> J/C:  
>  _Strange how I fit into you  
>  There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease  
> Strange how you fit into me  
> A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs_  
>   
>  _And how I am sure, like never before  
>  Of my reasons for defying reason  
> Both followed and led  
> Strange how we fit each other_  
>   
>  _Strange how certain the journey  
>  Time unfolds the petals for our eyes to see  
> Strange how this journey's hurting  
> In ways we accept as part of fate's decree_  
>  _For we don't realize our faith in the prize  
>  Unless it's been somehow elusive  
> How swiftly we choose it,  
> The sacred simplicity of you at my side_ [*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axgoppZ_7ic)

K-2SO didn't "twiddle his thumbs". And he _had_ opposable digits. The phrase annoyed him for the majority of species who didn't. Still, metaphors could be useful. Now, for instance, as he ran a thirtieth unnecessary status check while interfaced with the (perpetually outdated) Alliance inventory, noting candidates for his and Cassian's next ship. Because he'd decided to project that they would need one.

It was ludicrous that Kay hadn't been invited to the debriefing. He would be able to give a more detailed and accurate report, on what they were calling _Operation Fracture,_ than any sentient could do; even Cassian. Perhaps, this time, that was _why_ he'd been told to wait outside. There were aspects that Cassian had already told him to redact.

The thing Kay was _not_ doing, to kill time, was calculate odds. Not because there were so many different ways things could proceed. That was negligible expansion.

Because… none of them were particularly good.

For Cassian.

…Or the others? Was it usual, Kay's analytics whirred on some terciary level, to set such priorities this quickly? He'd prioritized D'koetaa, Wyhyatt, and D'lylaa as abruptly on Charissia, but he'd had orders, and the line of reasoning had been unambiguous. _We can't bring children into battle and we can't leave them here._

Baze, Bodhi, Chirrut, and Jyn were not children. They had already been in battle. Cassian hadn't ordered Kay to care for them. Why was he filing them like such charges? …Had already done so?

Unusually, he didn't want to process this preemptively. He rarely agreed when Cassian argued to plan as events revealed themselves rather than run all simulations in advance. But in this case…

The signature of _/Cassian walking/_ registered in his sensors. Kay closed the readout and stepped away from the terminal, to meet his partner partway.

Cassian didn't look furious, fearful, mournful, nor happy. He looked utterly blank. The only tell were his bloodless knuckles. Kay didn't like when Cassian looked like that.

"What happened?" said Kaytoo.

"It hasn't yet," said Cassian. His voice was too flat and too low. "They're going to vote to surrender."

Kay didn't ask how Cassian knew. When he looked and sounded like this, Cassian's powers of extrapolation approached droid-level. Instead, Kay flashed to that sequence of probabilities.

Surrender meant:

_—disbandment of the Alliance  
—each planetary government to make their own arrangements with the Empire  
—turn over of Alliance leaders _[Mothma, Draven, Raddus, Dodonna, Organa] _for judgment and inevitable execution  
—ejection of nonhumans from all infrastructure  
—further disenfranchisement of nonhuman civilians_

Then, that terciary level added:

_—turning over Bodhi for judgment and inevitable execution_  
_—losing the support of Baze and Chirrut and Jyn  
——who would continue to operate outside the law  
———only without Alliance support in an even more policed galaxy, and so come swiftly to bad ends_

and…

Cassian had never made it a secret. They'd made it contract when Kay ~~asked~~ offered. _If you're ever returned to factory spec,_ Cassian had said, _and reintegrated as an Imperial weapon, I'll destroy you myself._

Kay had answered: _Good._

But not good. Not because Kay dreaded the prospect. Because he knew, if that happened, what happened next for—to—Cassian.

_/ That isn't service. That's looking for the best way to die./_

Time had passed only for a shift in Kay's oculars. "So what are _we_ doing?" Because… obviously, not that. _Surely_ not that.

Cassian said it aloud: "Not that. Find me which other SpecForce operatives are on base. Right now. And where."

"Why?"

"Do it first; I'll explain as we go."

By the time Cassian had assembled and explained to the operatives, Kay had made his own decision. He "sat on it" (another Anthrocentric phrase, though more species had rumps than thumbs) when Cassian brought them all in front of and swore their support to Jyn Erso. He kept sitting on it while Cassian and Jyn shared a more private moment. (Kay wondered how that could [have] go[ne], if there were any use, any more, in extrapolation.)

When Cassian finally broke off, Kay stopped him. He held out all the gear Cassian would have collected, and more, that Kay had already grabbed. This would show Cassian that he had at least ninety-eight seconds just to listen.

"Here." Kaytuesso dropped everything else into the shuttle and thrust a data card into Cassian's hands.

"What is it?" Cassian was rushed and perfunctory. His tone would change momentarily.

"A backup," said Kaytoo. "Of me."

Yep: Cassian stopped dead and stared at Kay.

"We've talked about this," said Cassian at last, searching Kay's oculars. (As if even Cassian could read anything on Kay's not-a-face.) "You were against it."

"I wasn't motivated to do it for myself," corrected Kay. "This is for _you._ "

"And _I_ was against _that."_

"Not because I feel obligated." Kay wrapped his far longer digits around Cassian's littler ones, impelling the card toward him again, from where Cassian had started to hand it back. "Because I want you to survive, even if I don't. Then, you reboot me and tell me how it went."

Cassian's mouth opened. It closed again.

There were so many things to analyze in that… as well as things other Sentients might attempt to protest or swear or skew or self-deceive or otherwise lie…

Cassian closed his own fingers around the datacard. Looked up again into Kay's oculars. And nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D'koetaa, Wyhyatt, and D'lylaa on Charissia are from _Tales from Wild Space: "Adventures in Wookiee-Sitting"_ by Shannon Denton & Alan Tudyk


	2. 4 ABY (Jyn)

The scarf was thin enough to see through when not folded over. It turned the city bruise-purple-blue.

Jyn'd never been on Jelucan before. She'd heard it had once been beautiful. The mountains were still impressive; but wave upon wave of desperate development had mechanized the groundscape and polluted the air. The crowd on all sides of her were like most other city's. No reason she should be reminded of Jedha.

A humanoid cut too close in front of her. Jyn turned her body to avoid them. She didn't (though it echoed in her memory) clap a hand to them in passing.

(Okay. One reason. That hadn't been her. It had been him.)

> When they'd parted, he'd reached for her hand. Four years and they were still uncertain about the most fleeting touch. Except the night when Baze carried him back, and Medical confirmed he wasn't in danger, but Jyn had refused to leave his bedside until he detoxed. He'd reached for her then, too. She'd responded by slipping in bed beside him. Then…  
>  … _ **then**_ …  
>  Jyn still didn't know if Cassian even remembered it. Versus waiting for her to bring it up first.  
>  She was never going to bring it up first.

"Watch it," grumbled another local—who, of course, had swerved into _her._

"Kest off," Jyn easily grumbled back. They'd adopted some of each other's techniques over the years, but she wasn't going to emulate Cassian. Apologizing to people who hadn't earned it was one of her hard lines. (Something she'd tried, over and over, to teach to Bodhi.)

There, finally, the building she was looking for. Jyn threaded her way upstream, only shoulder-checking (on purpose) once or twice. At last, she dragged open the door.

The air was clearer inside. She dropped the scarf from her face and scrunched it into her collar. Her fingers brushed her pendant.

"Help ya?" said the host behind a high counter.

"I'm supposed to meet someone staying here," said Jyn. "You got a bar?"

The host jutted their thumb aftways. "You also wanting your own room?"

—but she _could_ pull a Cassian, when she wanted. She curved one corner of her mouth, darted her eyes so they seemed to flash, and said archly, "I intend to find out."

The host grinned and seemed to mean it when they said, "Good luck." And turned their attention from Jyn entirely.

It was a ludicrous universe.

The bar was still dimmer than the entry, and the air a bit thicker again. Everything about this place had the _frontiertown_ look—the legacy of Jelucan's First Wavers that refused to be updated. They'd even imported some flora-based building material, for the bar and tables and floor, though the ceiling and walls were carved from the foundational mountain.

Something they'd compared notes on but hadn't had to borrow: they were both exceptional at fading to the background. He would have been hard to find if she weren't looking. …And if a disagreeable number of others weren't watching him, too.

He had someone at his table and they were talking quietly. He had to be aware of all the eyes on him. Jyn wondered how he was keeping the contact calm and what his exit plan was.

Lucky him; plans had changed. (The _Universe_ had changed.) And while part of her felt grimly satisfied she'd succeeded, part of her also raged at how _deep_ he always went—sacrificing everything for the macrocosm yet letting himself get completely cut off from it—all the danger he _always_ let himself be in. Well, howdy, partner; I'll be today's extraction team.

Jyn kept herself out of his line of sight. (His, not his contact's. The contact wouldn't give her another look.) Either he'd heard her footfall, the creak in the pretentiously wooden floor, or the interview was already bust due to all the watchers. Had it been a trap for him all along? Had they tracked his contact to him? Were they not organized at all and he'd just pissed a bunch of people off? (Wasn't that _her_ job?)

Whatever the case, they weren't the majority of beings there. The fact they were just watching, and had been for a while, meant they weren't wanting to draw attention to themselves. Instead, probably looking for their chance to get him somewhere isolated.

> That transcript in his files… K-2SO listening helpless via hidden commlink while…

Jyn turned on her heel, swept up a glass from someone else's table, and threw the contents in Cassian Andor's face.

Cassian sprang to his feet, sputtering, already half in defensive posture—and froze in astonishment.

"You nerfherding banthaspawning _wastoid!"_ Jyn bellowed.

"Hey!" shouted the being whose drink Jyn had flung. Not one of the watchers. Good.

"You can run from me, but you can't run from what you _did!"_ Jyn roared. Throughout the bar, she could feel the waves of astonishment and hesitation. Plans changing. "That was my _brother,_ you feke pfassking filth!"

The contact at Cassian's table had immediately pushed well back—and took the opportunity to slip around the room's periphery to a door.

She could feel the gears of Cassian's brain clicking from metres away. But his performance, however unprepared, was as seamless as hers: "So let _him_ talk to me! You come in here making a scene—"

"Oh, you bet I am!" fumed Jyn. And made the next key move: lunging to grab yet another customer's drink.

"That's enough!" grunted someone much, much bigger than Jyn; who instantly had her by the collar. Cassian gave an exaggerated (for him) feint of trying to slip away, which of course got him scruffed by the security guard, too. "Both of you, out!"

Jyn yowled obscenities in a gapless stream, drawing the eye of every being in the building—immobilizing the ones who'd been spying. The guard dragged Jyn and Cassian to a back door, hurled them through it, and slammed it behind them.

Cassian was instantly on his feet. Jyn had been dumped into a tangle of packing wire.

"They'll be after me," he said. He took no time for all the _what the hell_ s and _why are you here_ s and _but really **WHAT THE HELL?**_ s others would have thrown at her. He flicked out his stiletto and cut the wire around her, and immediately replaced the blade with his hand. They knew each other. They rarely _needed_ one another's help. Trusting that they both respected that, they took it. She clapped her hand around his wrist and let him help haul her upright. He was already twisting them both in the direction they needed to go.

Though she'd never forget the danger, and what she needed to do about it, and how pissed she was about it; she also had to admit. Running full tilt through an urban obstacle course beside him was kinda fun.

* * *

They'd switched several times from running in isolation to blending into crowds to running again. Finally both were satisfied that they'd shaken all pursuit. They never lost one another. They were—they always were—perfectly in sync.

Cassian hadn't left anything he couldn't abandon in his rented room. (He never did.) Still, Jyn suggested they go there rather than back to her ship. Cassian had frowned but didn't hesitate to follow her lead. (That, too: he never did.)

There, at last, they checked for trails, for surveillance, and found none. And, at last, he turned on her, bewildered and furious. _"What_ are you _doing_ here? Why did you blow my meeting?"

"It wasn't blown already?" said Jyn. "Those were a lot of eyes."

"Yeah," said Cassian. "The contact was a lot more sympathetic to the cause while he was feeling the heat."

"So you got cornered on _purpose?"_

_"Jyn!"_

He didn't look as angry as she'd ever seen him. He never threw that anywhere near her. But he was mad enough. Her instinct right now was to cross her arms over her chest, or crouch with a hand to a hilt, or otherwise put threat and defense between them.

She did none of those things. "It doesn't matter—the mission is null."

Now real rising anger from confusion. "Are you _kidding?_ You know what they're doing! They're building another one! We have to—"

 _"Cassian."_ She looked into his eyes without barrier, without exit strategy, and said, "They blew it up. And the Emperor with it."

> Baze carried him back. The words "He's been dosed—" all Jyn heard before all her senses shut down, and she experienced only in flashes all that came next. Medical, the tests, the others, all falling away until she was at his side, and breathed again that the results were negative, and insisted on his behalf he be released to his own quarters, and it was against regs but it was a terrible night and they desperately needed the beds; so they let her and Baze and Chirrut and Bodhi bring him between them; and finally the others left, with gentle touches on her shoulder admonishing her to get some sleep, herself; all knowing she wouldn't.

Everything stopped. Everything evaporated. Every other emotion vanished from him, and nothing existed—not room, not mountain, not planet—but the two of them staring at each other.

He hadn't in the alley, and he didn't now in void: Cassian didn't waste time with the things others would say. Not _What?_ or _How?_ He got right to the: "…And?"

> She'd sat at his bedside watching his motionless face. Finally, it wasn't. He looked at her, confused. And reached for her. She got up only to lay down beside him, putting her arms around him and her face into the curve of his neck and holding him tight.

It wasn't a given. He needed to hear it. He deserved to hear it. And he deserved to hear it from _her._ Why she'd just rushed halfway across the galaxy to bust up his mission. She knew Jelucan wouldn't have heard. And in deep cover, he definitely wouldn't. She wanted to be the one to tell him.

Yet, in the moment, her throat was dry, and she wasn't sure she still had a voice.

> They'd held onto each other all night.

She found it. "The war's over. We won."

* * *

Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor stood on opposite sides of the small room and stared at each other.

> Only once their eyes opened, and they were face to face, so very close. They both saw it in a flash, in their own and each other's eyes: how easily they…

_You'll never win  
It's getting hot out there  
Go go go  
Save the dream  
I have so much to tell you  
_

_You've lost_

Jyn wondered what voices ran through Cassian's mind, what faces before his eyes. She wondered if he could see anything at all. She wondered if he could see _her_ ghosts.

> Both held back. Both understood. May have whispered aloud: _(I want to. But not like this.)_  
>  Instead he'd touched her face, and she touched his neck, and they pressed their foreheads together and went back to sleep.

Did he remember it? Why did it mean so much to her that  
he did?  
…

One moment, time had stopped and it seemed neither of them would ever move or breathe again. The next moment, he'd crossed the room and stood right in front of her.

Their eyes never lost each other's for a second, though now she was looking up.

_It's not a problem if…_

He was still staring at her, his eyes wide and blown, incredulous, like he was seeking reality in her face… seeking the universe in her eyes…

_Like they had in the elevator on…_

She wondered if he was about to grab her. She wondered if he was about to kiss her. She wondered if _she_ was about to grab and kiss _him._

Somewhere far away, his hands closed and open again at his sides. Her fingers flexed, reaching without moving.

He took a step back. They were both breathing hard.

"…I need…" said Cassian.

Jyn raised an eyebrow—not arch, not ironic; _seeking._ _**What?**_

"…a drink?" she hazarded.

He said finally, "…to lie down."

The gaping vastness inside had her falling no matter what she did now.

"I can go," she said.

"Please stay," he said. "Please… Jyn… please stay."

It wasn't courage. It wasn't frustration. It wasn't weakness. It was free-fall. She simply asked because this was when she was always going to: "Can I lie down with you?"

In turn, no deflection, no overthinking, no overeagerness, nothing. This was how they finally did what they always had to. Cassian said, "Yes. Force. Please."

He sat and shifted himself to the far side so she wouldn't have to walk around. He didn't take off his shoes. He did take off his blaster.

Jyn sat and lay herself down beside him. She also shed her blaster and not her shoes.

She turned to face him. He was already facing her. She laid a hand on his side. He instantly put his arm around her.

"Okay?" he whispered.

"Okay," she whispered back. She looped her arm around him tightly as he pulled her close.

Four years of holding themselves apart and suddenly this.

Maybe the war _was_ over…?


	3. 4 ABY / 3276 - 3277 LY (Bodhi)

_I'm the pilot._  
It had become mantra to him,  
_I'm the pilot_  
not limited to the actual words.  
_I'm the pilot. I'm the pilot._

Thank the Force, it hadn't needed to be a _lifeline_ in a long time. Still, it helped him focus. Even with things entirely outside piloting.

_ Hey… hey! Are you the pilot—the shuttle pilot?  
_

_You brought the message?_

_Are you having trouble remembering what you are?_

Bodhi sat at the data terminal in Cassian's room. As the officer, Cassian was the only one with his own quarters. He'd given them the door codes for _whenever they needed space to themselves._ They never used them (as far as Bodhi knew—they all nudgingly encouraged Jyn) when he was on base. But Cassian was on base rarely enough.

Bodhi liked rooming with Chirrut and Baze. He would have requested it. He suspected Cassian, again, was the reason he hadn't had to. If Baze and Chirrut minded the lack of privacy, they didn't act like it. They never made him feel like an intruder on their bond. They made him feel welcomed. Safe. Sometimes, they would exchange stories of Jedha. The barracks with them felt like home.

Family.

He wished so hard for Jyn and Cassian to be able to join them in it. If not with them, with each other. Why could _everyone_ see it except _themselves?_

_You can't unask a question. You can only move forward with what you have learned._

… _I'm the pilot._ Focus. C'mon.

He was here _because_ he needed to focus.

_You spoke of being reprogrammed earlier. You will be exactly as brave as you need to be if it was done correctly._

It had taken Cassian too long to tell them what the datacard was. —because, then, he'd had to explain why he hadn't done it. —hadn't yet confiscated a new droid unit and reinstalled K-2SO. Bodhi understood almost before he said it. How could Cassian justify eliminating any droid's consciousness to make room for Kaytoo? when Kay had taught him he needed only perform a jailbreak reprogram for any droid to attain full individuality? Essentially: how could he kill one being to resurrect another?

(He'd killed for other reasons; and, unlike Jyn and Chirrut, not solely in battle or self-defense. But that was irrelevant to this. And none of them would throw it in his face. _Anyway:)_ Bodhi thought it should be easy enough to get an empty, unprogrammed chassis and use that.

It wasn't. Not when you were the Rebellion and all positronic manufacturers had been scooped up and made Imperial. Ugh… of course. If it were that doable, Cassian would have done it already. Plus, he was kept so busy (made sure to keep himself busy?) on missions, it didn't leave a lot of time for a pet project. Jyn was not-so-secretly determined to beat them all—to be the one to figure it out and do it. What she probably didn't know was: so was Bodhi.

_We're the same. We've both got the Imperial symbol on us. And yet we're both here anyway._

Jyn was a better slicer, but she was also a better… most things. So, just like Cassian, she was usually elsewhere, performing other functions. Bodhi wasn't a combat pilot and didn't think, post-Bor Gullet—but ever, really—he'd be able to become one. It did feel good that even his most boring contributions were helpful. (And, unlike in the Empire, people actually _told_ him as much.) He still wanted to be doing more.

Learning as he went, he used most of his off time on the 'net, looking for leads, opportunities, alternatives. Lesson one had been learning that "acquisitions", here, meant two different things. One: something in Cassian's area—in Intelligence—and what little Bodhi could find… he didn't want to know more. Two, though: what he was after. Resources, inventory. But those had gotten more locked down, too. There was much more reliance on the black market now that… Bail Organa… was… no longer giving support.

_You **know** what became of your cargo._

Okay. Try other things. Be imaginative. Bor Gullet didn't get everything. Keep going.

While he worked, though he hadn't in a while, he thought about…

_ Cassian reprogrammed you, right? Well— _

> As far as he knew, it was a straightforward drop-off. No one as high ranking as the man in front of him should have been there to sign for it. On the day, Bodhi assumed everyone else was just on break. Later on, he wondered if that was a first sign—more sensitive material (materiel?) coming in?—that things were getting _less_ straightforward.
> 
> In any case, this man wasn't a fellow grunt, nor even an aide. He was a _science officer._ So Bodhi was determined to be as efficient as possible. The best thing one could do with someone higher up was do your job so well, they forgot you entirely.
> 
> But the taller man didn't just sign the manifest. He tipped his head, ever so slightly, and looked intently into Bodhi's face. Then he said the last thing Bodhi would have expected, not just from someone of his rank, but, frankly, from _anyone_ in the Empire: "Are you all right?"
> 
> Bodhi blinked at him. He thought he'd pulled himself together. His face was dry. Apparently, it was also still tense and pale. And there was no hiding his red-rimmed eyes. "I… uh… huh?"
> 
> The scientist didn't berate. He said, "Do you have half an hour to spare? Before your next commitment?"
> 
> "I… sir? Yes? Sir?"
> 
> The man tilted his head in the direction of a door Bodhi had never gone through. "Join me in the canteen. I'll get us drinks."
> 
> Nothing in Bodhi's experience in the Empire prepared him for this. He didn't know if he should decline or obey. Dumbfounded, he obeyed.
> 
> The scientist sat Bodhi down, went away, and returned with something cold for himself and something hot for Bodhi. He set it down gently before taking a seat. "I'm sorry to pry. You looked like you needed a moment to breathe."
> 
> What was _**happening**?_ "I appreciate that, sir," said Bodhi.
> 
> "Galen, please." The scientist put out his hand. "Galen Erso. And, you are?"
> 
> "Bodhi. Rook." Still wondering if this was some kind of test (or trap), Bodhi took his hand.
> 
> Galen shook it, smiled, and returned his palms to his drink. "You don't have to tell me, of course. But do you want to talk about, whatever's upset you?"
> 
> "Oh… it's…" Bodhi looked for an answer in his drink. Not for long. He couldn't stay away from Galen's attentive face. "…It's… an anniversary. Of… when my father and sister died."
> 
> Bringing personal feelings to work was verboten at _any_ rank. When it came to bereavement, particularly, party line was that it built character. Choke it. Use it. Keep moving. Honor the dead with unbroken duty. Don't be weak.
> 
> But. Into Erso's eyes came a look of such understanding, Bodhi was shocked—by its depth—by its _pain._ He _felt_ it across the table—across the world. "I'm sorry. I have some idea, how hard that must be."
> 
> Bodhi was no longer worried about anything being a trick. "I'm sorry you do."
> 
> Galen gave a smile which didn't reach his sad, sad eyes. "Thank you." He took a drink, possibly to give either or both of them space. "May I ask what happened to them?"
> 
> Bodhi told him. And much more. About his remaining family on Jedha, how important it was that he'd gotten a job with the Empire when it was so rare for Rimworlders, how much more he was being able to provide for them back home. He didn't go into his aunt's and cousins' conflicted feelings about the Empire, that they _tried_ to subsume purely in pride in him.
> 
> Galen _listened to him._ Intently. With empathy. _Respectfully._ He asked questions that showed he was paying attention. Everything in his reactions and words and face said that he actually cared. He didn't presume too much familiarity, but he also didn't shy away. He made Bodhi's grief, not only _not_ seem shameful, but seem… understandable. Appropriate. Right. He didn't share any details about himself, but Bodhi knew Galen had lost close family, too. Very close.
> 
> When Bodhi finally glanced at a chrono, he leapt up. Galen rose up with him and offered to message anyone Bodhi needed, in case their conversation had caused him too much delay. Bodhi declined, dumbstruck again at Galen's consideration for a grunt's job—let alone his readiness to take _responsibility_ for it.
> 
> "This was… so helpful, sir," said Bodhi. He dared extend his hand again.
> 
> The taller man immediately took it. "It's still Galen. And I'm very glad. We should all be able to inhabit our feelings, now and then."
> 
> Did Galen? While the _rest of the Empire_ disagreed. …but for that moment, Bodhi believed him. And smiled. "Good luck with your work, Galen."
> 
> "Thank you, Bodhi. And with yours." Like their jobs were comparable in importance. Galen lowered his hand and returned Bodhi's last smile, and they walked away. Bodhi never expected to cross paths with him again.

_—Galen Erso reprogrammed **me**._

> The next half-dozen drop-offs, it was predictable crewmen who came to sign. Bodhi wouldn't admit, even to himself, how close he kept the memory of that conversation; how it helped him with the workaday dehumanization. That amazing lesson: that even in the Empire, people could be kind. But he put it so firmly at the back of his mind, he'd almost forgotten where it had been.
> 
> So, he wasn't looking. Nonetheless, he _just_ recognized Galen Erso in the background of a pickup. The crewer who'd signed Bodhi's manifest was handing it back to him.
> 
> "Received," he said.
> 
> "Confirmed," Bodhi answered. He waited for the other to turn his back.
> 
> Then Bodhi shoved the datapad with the manifest in his coveralls, and made a beeline for the door through which Galen had disappeared.
> 
> It was ludicrous to reach out again. It was downright dangerous to _follow him._ But just as Galen had seen Bodhi's grief in a quick look, Bodhi recognized the way Galen had crossed the hangar.
> 
> His clearance got him through the door. He didn't expect it to and knew he'd get no further. He didn't have to. Standing in a corner, beside a closed portal, Galen was motionless with his face in his hands.
> 
> Since their last meeting, Bodhi's confidence to operate outside routine this way had faded. He wondered what he was about to bring on himself. But he had to risk it. He cleared his throat gently. "Excuse me… Dr Erso?"
> 
> Galen stiffened to attention so abruptly, Bodhi had another moment of wonder—that maybe even scientists and officers could feel the constant insecurity the more menial workers did. But as Galen turned and saw Bodhi's face, his tension turned to surprise. "Bodhi Rook?"
> 
> He _recognized_ him? He _**remembered**_ him?! "Yes, sir. I'm sorry to bother you. I wanted to confirm you were all right."
> 
> "It's still Galen, Bodhi." Galen had squared his shoulders, put a gentle smile on his face, and was so clearly not all right. "I'm… having a difficult moment. Nothing to be concerned about."
> 
> Bodhi did what Galen had done, last time: he tilted his head.
> 
> Galen let his face fall, so little, so slightly, barely at all. It nearly made Bodhi cry.
> 
> "I can't talk about it," said Galen softly.
> 
> Neither of them doubted that he meant that literally.
> 
> "Okay," said Bodhi. "Can I return the favor and buy you a drink?"
> 
> A more genuine smile started on Galen's face. "Do you have the time?"
> 
> "I'll make it," said Bodhi. His own assuredness pleasantly surprised him.
> 
> Galen glanced around them, past their actual surroundings to things Bodhi couldn't imagine. Then he laughed. "Thank you. It's this way."
> 
> During this drink, Galen shared much less than Bodhi had—almost no details at all. A wife who'd died, a child who'd been lost. Not how or when, no names; just _loss._ Bodhi didn't mind. Bodhi wondered how and why that would be sensitive information, but he wasn't going to ask. He just felt deeper understanding and kinship. No wonder Galen had recognized Bodhi's grief.
> 
> When they parted this time, Galen's hand lit momentarily on Bodhi's shoulder to thank him. And Bodhi knew, this time, it wasn't the end.

Bodhi returned from a particularly long haul, bleary-eyed and stiff; but he'd heard something over backchannels that he wanted to pursue. So instead of heading straight to his own quarters, he went to Cassian's. He punched in the code, opened the door, and yelped in alarm.

 _"Oh!"_ choked Bodhi. "You're back! I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Having sat sharply upright, Cassian set his blaster discreetly back down on the endtable. "Not officially. I haven't checked in. Thought I'd take one more day to come down."

"I'm sorry," said Bodhi again, starting to back out of the room. "I'll let you rest—"

"No, don't," said Cassian, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I _gave_ you the code. If you wanted to be alone, I'll probably head to mess in an hour and—"

"Oh! No, I mean, I don't want to kick you out of your own quarters."

Cassian gave a tired smile. Reassurance wasn't going well so he switched tactics. "Bodhi. I'm glad to see you. I could do with a friendly face. Please, come in?"

Face warming, Bodhi stepped in and sealed the door behind him.

"I'm not sure where Jyn is," Bodhi said. "She took off without telling anyone where." —The _echoes_ of that caused such a shockwave, Bodhi dove hastily forward: "But everyone else is on base. I can tell them you're here. …Or, um, not, since you haven't told anyone yourself…"

"Don't worry about it," said Cassian—to both things. "I'll let everyone know tonight. Jyn will be there, too." He didn't say how he knew that; Bodhi didn't need to question it. "It's just… …you know."

Feke yes.

"How are _you_ doing?" said Cassian. "With… it… over?"

Bodhi shook his head; more trying, not for the first time, to make it sink in, than seek an answer. "So far things just… keep going," he said. "Maybe you'll hear otherwise, at your level. But for me… there's still just shipping to do."

"…Yeah. It keeps going. Brand new universe… same old universe…" Cassian shook his head like Bodhi had, bracing his hands on his knees. "Part of why I haven't checked in. I'm… going to find out, I guess. What comes next."

It was a surprising thing to hear Cassian— _Cassian_ —say. But Bodhi thought he understood. "What would you want?"

Cassian's eyes went blank. "That's… never been a consideration. Not ever."

_—been in this fight—_

Bodhi decided to treat this like a conversation with Baze and Chirrut. (Baze could be as close-lipped and intimidating as Cassian, anyway. He still reacted surprisingly softly to Bodhi asking direct questions.) He came over and sat in the room's only chair, swiveling to face the other. "You've _never_ done something because you wanted to?"

The corner of Cassian's mouth twitched upward. "Kaytoo. Keeping him. Making him my partner."

Feeling somehow caught out, Bodhi tilted his head. "That… made logistic—strategic—sense. Surely."

"A lot of people were unhappy about it," said Cassian. "He was a killdroid. Everyone was still thinking about the Clone Wars. And calling him my _partner…_ that got resistance, too. Turned out, even Rebels can have prejudice."

"…Yeah."

_Just see past the uniform for a minute!—_

The way Cassian looked at Bodhi's face again made Bodhi feel kind of… unmoored. Not judged or threatened, not by one of his own, but… like he had no idea what was about to happen. Sure enough, Cassian startled him with: "I never told you, did I? How much he liked you."

"Um… what?"

"You impressed him. I know."

"…I was a mess. Damaged. Useless." He _still_ felt that way.

"You weren't. You're not. You're brave and smart and skilled, and you were still ready to act _right_ after being betrayed, three times."

"Betrayed?"

"By Saw. By the Council. By me."

Cassian didn't say it like it was new information or was looking for pardon. That was good because Bodhi was having trouble remembering what words were. "…I… I don't know. I kind of talked him into working with me."

"That's _amazing,"_ said Cassian. " 'Talked him into'…? You remember him, right?"

That almost got Bodhi to laugh. "I think you're overstating—"

"No," said Cassian. "Objectively. Bodhi, I heard Kay compliment you _twice,_ in one day. He said 'Well done' and called you 'impressive'. Do you know how often he complimented _me?"_

Bodhi felt… expanded, somehow. On the inside. It wasn't… a surprise, exactly, but… it meant… It _meant._ He'd keep it. Meeting Cassian's eyes again, Bodhi didn't say it as a protest or disagreement, but he had to say: "He loved you."

Cassian didn't protest, either. Not to downplay something emotional, or argue that droids didn't experience emotion at all. He just looked down at his own hands and played his fingers against each other.

"Anyway," said Cassian at last. "It's so, so late. I can't believe it got this late. But I always meant to tell you. …And how I noticed, too. You were the only one of us—the _only_ one—who was there not because you were forced into it—not because everything had been _taken_ from you—but because _you chose to give it up._ Because it was the right thing to do. You've… always… amazed me, for that."

Bodhi's mouth dropped open, and stayed there.

> "—I didn't _think_ —"
> 
> "That is how the Empire prefers it, Bodhi," said Galen stonily. "Good citizens who do their duty without asking questions. I was a good man for too long. I thought my work, my research, was beyond the ugliness growing around us. This is where my blindness has led."
> 
> Bodhi felt…
> 
> …betrayed?
> 
> … _Used?_
> 
> Had Galen approached him from the start looking for a playing piece? Or could Bodhi still believe it had just… unfolded this way?
> 
> "So you _wanted_ me to ask," Bodhi said quietly. "You _pushed_ me to. To try and fix _your_ mistakes, Galen."
> 
> Galen didn't wince nor confirm nor deny. Some colder part of Bodhi was glad about that. "Can you say you played no part in this?" said Galen. "You _know_ what became of your cargo. But there's still time for us to make this right. You can't unask a question. You can only move forward with what you have learned."

"…This isn't meant to sound like a goodbye, is it?" said Bodhi at last. "You're not… planning on—"

Cassian shook his head immediately. "I'm not planning _anything._ I don't know what comes next."

Hearing Cassian Andor say that might have been the moment, for Bodhi, it started to properly sink in.

His friend was continuing: "I just… have been… taking some stock. And… I really have meant to tell you. I don't know how… I'm sorry it took so long. So many things took so long."

"I… I mean…" What the feke did he mean? Cassian gave him time. Bodhi finally said: "Thank you."

Cassian gave his easiest, warmest smile yet, in the way that always felt like sharing a secret. "You're welcome."

Mercifully, Cassian broke the moment by stretching his arms and his neck. "If you don't mind, I might try to nap again. You can stay, if you want; do whatever you came in here for. If it was also a nap, I should tell you, I'm a terrible bedmate. Really restless."

That finally made Bodhi grin. "I came to use the terminal, actually."

"All yours," said Cassian. "Though if it's to listen to news reports… maybe use the head set? I'm taking a break from intelligence gathering for a few more hours." …Surprising Bodhi again, Cassian corrected himself: "Not sure I'm ready to hear what the rest of the galaxy is saying about things, yet."

Deprioritizing other reactions, Bodhi just nodded. "Not a problem. Sleep well."

Cassian gave him another partial smile—he was always kind with Bodhi but had he ever smiled so much? …had he ever casually napped before?—and flopped back onto the pillows.

It felt a little strange, working on his secret project with Cassian actually in the room, but whether Cassian really slept or not, they didn't speak any more.

> Galen wouldn't be there the very last time. There was no way that could be a good idea.
> 
> But there was _one_ last time. When Bodhi raised his head on the landing platform and saw Galen waiting for him.
> 
> With an effort, Bodhi crossed the way to him.
> 
> Galen looked him in the eye, like no one else had and he had all along, and—almost tentatively—extended his hand.
> 
> "I didn't befriend you in order to use you this way," said Galen Erso. "I drafted your help _because_ we are friends. Because I trust you, because I got to know something of your heart, and it was so special. I'm so sorry. That… you pay this price of goodness. And the price of knowing me. That it's such poor repayment."
> 
> Bodhi… couldn't say everything. No matter how much he knew he would regret the inability later, and wish over and over he'd done better. No matter how much he knew this was the last chance.
> 
> But at the last, Bodhi could only find: "I'm glad you're my friend."
> 
> The way Galen smiled, reaching his sad eyes, made Bodhi know: it was enough.

When Bodhi finally took his leave, he felt different. He figured out that this—however short, however half-articulate, but still exceptionally open—conversation had finally done it. Bodhi could _realize_ the war was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jailbreak reprogram", as ever, coined by (stolen from) bright_elen.
> 
> I know Cassian wasn't on board the shuttle to hear Kay say "Well done" on Eadu, but I'm choosing to ignore that. (Maybe Kay recounted it later.)
> 
> Quotes:
>
>> BODHI: —I didn't **think** —  
> GALEN: That is how the Empire prefers it, Bodhi. Good citizens who do their duty without asking questions. I was a good man for too long. I thought my work, my research, was beyond the ugliness growing around us. This is where my blindness has led.  
> BODHI: So you **wanted** me to ask. You **pushed** me to. To try and fix **your** mistakes, Galen.  
> GALEN: Can you say you played no part in this? You **know** what became of your cargo. But there's still time for us to make this right. You can't unask a question. You can only move forward with what you have learned.  
>   
> BODHI: I just… need you to follow my lead. Don't say anything unless someone asks you to.  
> K-2SO: You are asking for a great deal of trust. I really don't know you, Bodhi Rook.  
> BODHI: _(puts his hand on Kaytoo's arm.)_  
>  K-2SO: And now you are delaying us.  
> BODHI: You say you don't know me? We're the **same**. We've **both** got the Imperial symbol on us. And yet we're both here anyway. All to help the Rebellion. Cassian reprogrammed you, right? Well, Galen Erso reprogrammed **me**. We can still finish this mission. We can steal a shuttle and get the information back to the Rebellion. But you have to let me lead the way.  
> K-2SO: All right.  
>   
> BODHI: I'm the pilot. I'm the pilot. I'm the pilot.  
> K-2SO: Are you having difficulty remembering what you are?  
> BODHI: What? No. No. …I don't know. It's easy to pretend you're brave when the danger's still far off. But when you're **here** and everyone is counting on you to stay alive—  
> K-2SO: You spoke of being reprogrammed earlier. You will be exactly as brave as you need to be if it was done correctly.  
> BODHI: Let's hope that it was, then.
> 
> ~ Jody Houser, Marvel's _Rogue One_ graphic novelization


	4. 3277 LY - 1 ABY / 4 ABY (Jyn, Cassian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> c/w: brief suicidal ideation, intrusive violent thoughts

> Into the light of the holomap came a captain. His expression and body language were meant to reassure. Too bad Jyn had been trained by kindred masters. She could see what he held back. The woman in white introduced him, as she hadn’t even introduced herself; the sign that, whatever anyone said later, this was to be Jyn’s case officer. Handler. Guard.
> 
> Yet, through tension and suspicion, shock and hostility that kept coming in waves, there was a moment where Jyn caught herself remembering. Running her hands through Hadder’s dark hair. And wondering, what might it be like to do that to Cassian Andor.

* * *

He woke up with someone beside him.

For ages, Cassian stared at the ceiling; not blinking, not breathing, taut and still. _When am I? where? who?…_

In millimetres, he turned his head.

_With Her_

Jyn Erso lay beside him stomach-down; stardust-eyes closed, hair falling over her face, cheek flattened, lips parted. In _tinier_ increments, he moved his hand from thrown over his head to beside her face.

(Confirming she was—?)

Her breath warmed his fingers.

(Thank you, Force.)

He took a deeper breath than he'd meant to. The mattress sank with him. Jyn shifted, microscopically. Her arm, draped over his stomach, squeezed and relaxed. His arm was folded upon hers. Their hands were together.

_We won._

When she'd said it, his brain had shut down. He could to do nothing but follow suit. Now, visions rushed into void.

run into the street and start a fight  
find someone in stormtrooper armor and pummel them 'til his knuckles broke  
steal an Imperial uniform and provoke someone into pummeling him  
get in the middle of a crowd and starting shooting over everyone's heads

_(What are these thoughts? You don't want to do any of those)_

break every window in every wall  
fire into the side of the mountain until it gouged a hole  
slam his blaster into rocks until it cracked in two

_(You're not making sense. Kay would stop you. **Stop** )_

He didn't want more violence but it was there. It had always been

_(would always be?)_

there. It was where the thoughts were coming from. What had made him its agent, cut him in its image, been his life since—

hit the floor  
punch the wall  
tell her to shoot him

but they'd _won!_ It had worked. It had served its purpose. It was done.

it will never be done  
you were never meant to  
you're not supposed to  
it won't be over while you  
it can’t  
you will  
—

But none of that was new… none of that mindblowing or bonebreaking.

It was the mental images of hurting _Jyn_

**I WON’T  
I DON’T WANT TO  
NO  
I WILL NOT  
STOP  
YOU CAN’T MAKE ME  
ARE YOU KIDDING  
** **NO**

—that—kept coming. Not from anything he would possibly do. Nothing he remotely wanted. He nearly started kicking and screaming against his own thoughts with how much he refused them, he _did not want them._ But it was the violence that existed in the universe forcing itself on him, as always before… Shrieking in him, putting before his eyes all the ways it could manifest again, through him, right here; ways that he’d seen; things that he’d done; things that had been done to him.

**NOT TO HER I WON’T I WON’T GO AWAY SHUT UP STOP IT FORCE NO**

He’d rather have it done to him _again_ than risk himself doing any of it to—

_**I WON’T DO IT STOP STOP STOP  
SKIES, NO** _ _**  
JYN** _

  
**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Meticulously, Cassian shifted himself out from under Jyn's arm. He kept his hand with hers until the last moment. She stayed where she was, breathing unaltered, as he slipped from the bed.

_(Don't leave her while she's asleep. Wake her and say goodbye. Don't ever do it to her; not like them; not to her again; not even like she did to—)_

But even if she _was_ really asleep (which he doubted), she'd be able to tell immediately where he'd gone. He just needed to be not beside her when he started shaking.

* * *

> Jyn was blind and deaf to the reality that kept not ending. _Though it was supposed to._ Bodhi and the strange pilot near-physically hauling their wounded craft into atmo. The pilot’s strangled cries at wreckage of the Rebel fleet. Baze taking over Chirrut’s chant to Chirrut who kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Their distress signal finally answered.
> 
> None of it made it through Jyn taking Cassian’s head into her lap. She ran her hand through his dark hair, over his burnt, bruised, and blood-draining face. _Don’t die. Don’t die._

She'd been awake since he moved. She was never going to sleep through someone going away. She kept her outsides relaxed while her insides crushed into knots. _Don't let me down. Don't be everyone else. Don’t not be you._

_I know I but please don't do it back to me_

> They took him from her numb arms.
> 
> They rushed him to Medical like there was still something they could do.
> 
> But he was dead. And she couldn’t. Not again. No more.

She felt ridiculous when she heard him open the 'fresher door. _Okay. You don't have to tell me when you—_

Minutes passed; even more; too many. She didn't know Cassian's particulars, but—fellow soldiers, never indulgent, never off-guard—this wouldn't be his norm. Wondering if he was sick, if he was meditating, if he was doing something she needed to stop, if she was being a child; she swung out her legs and stood out of bed.

He'd left the door widely ajar. So surely she wasn't about to push it open and find him bloody-wristed or foam-mouthed on the floor—

_(Would he? why did she—?)_

The shower was on. Water, not sonic. She knew because it was pooling on the floor. Cassian had his back to her, under the water. He was fully clothed down to his boots. His face and palms were pressed to the wall.

She stood still a moment, looking.

> Everything adrenaline had kept at bay finally crashed down. You thought she'd had her reaction to Galen while escaping Eadu? You thought defeating Krennic would simply set her free?

She sat on the vacc lid to remove her own shoes. She put her hand to the frame to alert him as she stepped into the shower too. She slipped her arms to hug him from behind, resting her head to his back. One of his hands left the wall to join with hers.

She held him as he broke down. She didn't try to look at his face; her cheek and lips to his back as it tectonically moved, her arms only tightening when his hand did. She couldn't tell if she cried, too, with the water pouring over them, and she preferred it that way.

His shaking wound down. He dropped his other hand from the wall. She let her own arms fall and he turned to face her.

"Don't apologise," she said before he could open his mouth.

He'd follow her orders. He always did. He said instead: "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She opened her mouth to respond and couldn’t think how. _That’s why I came. / I know. / Me too._ They stood and looked at each other, like they had when she'd broken the news.

She didn’t have a plan. He wouldn’t, either. It was so novel. How would they get out of this moment? Who knows? It wasn’t lethal. No one else depended on it. It was solely their own problem.

At last, Cassian reached out and took a sodden fold of her sleeve between his fingers. "I didn't mean to be an example to _follow,”_ he said.

 _You’d prefer I—?_ She suppressed the thought but quirked half a smile.

He returned the other half. "I don't think this place has a drying function. Do you have dry clothes with you?"

“Um. No.”

"Okay. We can split mine." He put his hand on the water control. “You good?"

“Yeah, I already oiled my lekku,” said Jyn.

Cassian did that almost-laugh exhalation thing he did, that made her chest both warm and ache. He counted down from five and turned off the water.

His hand lit for the lightest, quickest moment on her arm, as _(so damn familiarly—)_ he circled them both so he could step past her out of the cubicle. He grabbed the towels and passed one in to her. As she started wringing herself out, he belatedly took off his shoes and set them upside-down to dry. Then he went out into the bedroom to get out of his wet clothes, leaving her the 'fresher to do the same.

Jyn slung her clothes over the cubicle wall and tried to _keep_ not having a plan. But it was hard… not to… gauge eventualities.

 _(Calculate the odds, Kay? —Oh, I'm not glad you're not here; but I'm glad you're not_ here.)

If it was going to happen, she didn't want it to be because… it felt like… conspiring circumstance. It should be a _choice._ For both of them.

At the same time, could they really keep… just… not…?

> Baze and Bodhi didn't try to stop her. Chirrut might have if he weren't being hooked up to med tech himself. Mothma had said _I won't forget what we did to you._ Draven might have told her Cassian could be revived. But it was too much and too late. The one person in the universe who'd always come back to her, beyond even those who'd been supposed to. She couldn't wait and see if he did again. Because if he didn't, that was it. She'd pulled herself up from the chasm too many times already. This was the one too far.
> 
> But also, what if he _did?_ What she would want next wasn't yet possible. Not for her as she was. So her-as-she-was had to go.

There was a tap on the door. Jyn cracked it open.

"I just have the one change of clothes," said Cassian. "But this should be big enough on you." He passed through a tunic nearly identical to the one he’d had on. Then some undershorts: "I've never worn these. Fresh from Provisions."

"Thanks," said Jyn. His shadow retreated, closing the door behind him.

Jyn tied up her hair before slipping the shirt on. It went almost to her knees. It didn’t feel like he’d ever worn it, either. Did he know about the one she'd taken? Someone so regimental with his few belongings, he'd surely noticed… but he'd never said anything, and she'd never…

She hung up the towel and knocked on the door, herself. She heard him laugh. “Come in. …Out."

The room felt chillier, barefoot. Cassian was wearing a fresh pair of fatigues, a towel draped around his shoulders, and… that was it. Okay. Last time she'd seen him with so few clothes on, it had been entirely unsexy. Because he'd been unconscious. And in a bacta tank. This time…

He moved past her, with another small smile, to deposit his own wet things in the 'fresher. Jyn felt too antsy to sit on the bed. She moved instead to look out the window. The view was lousy, but she could just see above the smog to the stars.

Cassian came back out and looked out the window, too. They had another spell of silence. Feeling out the room. The moment. The Peace.

"I guess we're not going out to celebrate," said Cassian.

Jyn flashed the requisite grin. Even if there hadn't been a gang chasing them, she knew Cassian hated intoxicants, nor was she feeling like socializing. Still—“You feeling celebratory, now?"

"…Not _not_ that."

"That's a start."

Wasn't that the pfassking crux. Not an ending. The war ending was unambiguously good. It was whatever came next _starting._

Cassian had smiled when she did. He was looking back out the window now. The blankness on his face… She had to put a crack in that. Yeah, she'd had days to process it and he'd only had hours. But sometimes your mind processed things better while you were not fixating on them. Much as it changed everything, tangible and intangible, about both of their entire lives, it didn't in _this room._ In here, it was all abstract. _They weren't._

_And yes, Universe, there **was** a Jyn Erso and a Cassian Andor beyond what they'd been in, been made by, the war. She'd learned hers. Could he his?_

"Can I ask you something?" said Jyn.

"Always," said Cassian.

_Put a crack in the mask. It has to be more important._

"Why did you go away?" It fell surprisingly easily from her lips. She'd been biting it back for years. "Back into your work. Without us." _Without me._ "It had kinda seemed like… before that… you'd planned on… something else."

Cassian stared at her.

"Why did _I_ go away?” he repeated in amazement.

Jyn's mouth dropped open.

> Jyn walked in silence onto the landing pad. She passed… survivors. Mostly grieving. Few glancing at her at all. She found a tiny scout-ship hooked up for repairs. Any droids or personnel assigned to it were currently dealing with those back from Scarif. She pulled down all the connectors, closed up the panels, went inside and sealed the door. Sitting in the pilot’s chair, she thought for an instant of going back for Bodhi after all—but she wouldn’t make him choose like she was. …Or, wasn’t. She wasn't making a choice. This was all she had left in her to do.
> 
> She wasn't much of a pilot. She knew how to slice the auto and set a course. The ship lifted off unchallenged. Altitude gained, above the treeline, the ziggurats, the clouds. Before it had even jumped to lightspeed, she'd left the cockpit, found the lone bunk, and curled in on herself.

Without making the decision to do so, Jyn turned away. She crossed to the bed, pulled up the blankets, climbed under, and wrapped herself in tight. She closed her eyes and waited for her brain stop exploding.

> She woke up two days later in orbit. She landed and no one made contact. The homestead and garden were overgrown but salvageable. She stayed there, an unmeasured year, all alone.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark. The curtains still open let the city lights shine in. She sat up and looked around.

Her movement was responded to. The answering motion caught her eye. She looked down from the bed to see Cassian lying on the floor beside her. She stared at him until his head turned—propped on a folded towel and his own arm—and she saw the light outside reflect in his eye, looking back at her.

She put out her hand.

He took it.

She closed her fingers around his. Pressing gently, running her thumb over the back of his knuckles, the way she was almost positive he'd once done for hers. His fingers closed too to meet hers.

The merest bit, she pulled upward. He stood without withdrawing his hand. She shifted over on the mattress without removing hers. He pulled down the top blanket—without the sheet below it, leaving one layer between them. He lay down beside her. She pulled the blanket up over him. She shifted closer to him. He bent his face to hers. She raised her face to his.

She simultaneously felt the unparalleled peace, and like she wanted to scream. She kept trying to speak but the impulse stuck in her brain, never getting near her throat or mouth. And what would she say? Which of all the possibilities that couldn't possibly go where she imagined them, because _he_ wasn't imagined; when she couldn’t explain to him because she couldn’t to herself; what could she ask that she could also answer; what…?

“I'm sorry,” Cassian said softly.

“What? Why?”

“What I said.”

“You really don't have to be. I promise.”

“Okay. Thank you. …I… um…”

She waited.

 _“Mradhe muck,”_ Cassian muttered at last. _“Hut'uun di'kut, feke verre d'n Nocka shunfa pfassk.”_

"Same to you," Jyn murmured back.

Cassian exhaled another laugh. She felt it on her cheek.

"I want…" she started. Couldn't keep going.

He seemed to understand, though. She felt it in their breathing, their hands, her skin.

Suddenly, he said: "I talk to you all the time. When I'm alone."

She opened her eyes. His were open but not looking at her.

"I don't know why I can't do it when you're _here,”_ he said.

Something deep in her untwisted. It wasn’t just her. Even in this, were they still in step… the way they'd been with one another and no one else, ever. …This one just happened to be a down-side.

Jyn exhaled very, very slowly. _Tell him. Explain to him. Ask him outright. Come on!_

How could she explain when _she_ didn't know? What was there to tell? Was it too late to apologise? Was it fair on her when by now they were kind of even? And ask him _what?_ Was she ready for any possible answer? Did she know what she even _wanted_ them to be? Jyn's growl of frustration and self-disgust had the same timbre as Cassian's swearing. His hand tightened on hers.

While the verbal and emotional brains were still trying themselves in tangles, Jyn's tactics brain had been working, too. It suddenly handed up so stupid an answer, Jyn wasn't sure it wasn't just fucking with her.

(Yes, one’s own brain could do that. Anyone who thought theirs didn't just wasn't awake.)

Carefully, Jyn said: "I want to play a game."

She felt Cassian's blink through the pillow. "…Okay."

"Yeah?"

He stirred himself. “Sure. Yeah. —Not dejarik, though. Too much like work."

(Thinking about it later, she thought that was the most descriptive thing he'd ever said about his job.)

"Sabacc's okay,” he was saying, “though you'll probably annihilate me. I'm only good when I cheat. I don't know what else we can get—"

"I have a game in mind," she said. "Just speaking."

"Okay?"

"It's… stupid."

“Okay. I doubt it."

She blinked, strangely touched. "Don't be so sure," she said with nerves that came across as dryness. "Tell me once we're in it."

"So what is it?"

"It's—" _stupid_ "—easy. We take turns asking questions. The person answering can always veto a question. But if they do answer, they have to _honestly._ … What do you think?"

It didn't hit her until so much later. (Like everything: how did it get so late?!) What she was challenging and to whom. How shockingly, puncturingly presumptuous… to _him,_ the lifelong pfassking _spy_ who'd sacrificed so much precisely to control information…

It didn't occur to her at the time because, in that moment, Cassian didn't hesitate. "Are there limits on the kinds of questions?"

"None," she said. _Only imagination._

_And mercy._

He suffused her chest, warm and choked, by simply nodding and saying, “Who goes first?"

“You try?”

He took five seconds. "Do you have a favorite color?"

What a stupid question. She loved it. "Gold. Whitish… bright. Colour of the first sunlight. At dawn. Do _you_ have a favourite?"

"Yes. Your favorite toy, as a kid?"

"Hang on!" Jyn propped herself up. "The whole point is you either don't answer at all or you do it _truthfully."_

"I did," he said. "You asked if I have a favorite. You didn't ask which. Your favorite toy as a kid."

She narrowed her eyes at him… to make a point. No, it wasn’t a violation. And making his own mark on the terms… okay… fair. She'd just have to hone her questions. …Also okay. Maybe that helped offset the terror of _not_ honing one's answers.

So… fine. "I think most about the toys Papa made me. They were just… amazing. I mean, he was a genius, but _they_ seemed so genius, the way he made them. And they told me about the Galaxy outside. The only hints about a lot of it that he shared freely. There was an IG droid made of metal. It seemed like the most incredible, intricate, expensive thing in the universe. …But my favorite was probably the cloth Shaak. Really simple. But I took him everywhere. Up the mountain, down the beach, into the water. I don't know how my parents found ways to clean him, but they did, and had to do it all the time."

She glanced at Cassian to find his eyes fixed so attentively on her. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes… piercingly intense and blazingly warm…

"I promise I'll get more creative," she said, "but you've made me curious. Same question to you?"

"I don't remember," he said. "Probably, at the time? All the toys at Carida were… educational. I only really remember the blaster. I truly thought it was real. Until I tried to use it. In the riot."

Jyn knew from his file. _Carida_ was _Carida Military Academy._ (So _educational_ was probably _indoctrination.)_ _The riot_ was the Separatist uprising that killed his father. This might be the first time he'd _said_ anything about any of it. "What happened?"

He said softly, nondescriptly: "It didn't work." The slightest movement of him drawing himself together: "But it's my turn to ask." After another moment: "Favorite holodrama?"

He was going softly on her. Maybe in the hope of keeping her at the same level with him? …No. That wasn't him. Could be he was still figuring out the real game. Very probably. …But maybe he also… just… wanted to know? "Haven't had one since I was kid. Back then it was _The Octave Stairway."_ It was temping to get his, too, but she didn't want to just keep echoing. "Are you allergic to anything?"

Again, didn't think until later, but this was potentially sensitive information. It could have an application. It was a _weakness._ And Cassian gave it to her, again, without hesitation. "Jogan fruit. I go bright red and itch like Jawagloves. It can be debilitating. Which seems so stupid." Well, sure, from the man who hadn't let a fractured spine stop him from scaling a data tower. —and who, again, was forging forward without pausing. "Chirrut throws Baze a birthday party and wants us to be the entertainment. What song do you sing?"

Jyn guffawed. "Is it more about him or about me? —Never mind. It'd have to be _[Crazy Wicked Witch](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Crazy_Wicked_Witch)._ Only song I could sing for anything.” (Though, looking into Cassian's face, [a different song](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_Eyes,_Warm_Thoughts) was insistently in her head.) Cutting off (her thought and) his protesting laugh, she shot back: "How do you pronounce your middle name?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "How do you know what it is if you haven't heard it?"

"First off, I read it." He knew she'd hacked his file. He'd been remarkably unbothered when she'd confessed to him. _I've read yours. Fair's fair._ "But I've heard a few people who aren't you say it, and they've all said it differently."

"Who the hell are these people?" Joking, sort of, since he didn't wait for her response. "My dad's name. _Heh-rown."_ There was a flip to the 'r' that made it closer to a soft 'd'. "It should be written with an apex glyph over the osk, but my dad got rid of that when he enrolled at Carida. Or they got rid of it for him. More Core, without it." This, too, he said without affect. And rolled just as easily into: "First thing you stole?"

…Right. Change in tone, there. Admittedly, as Cassian would have figured, the game had objectives. He wasn’t just waiting anymore for them to manifest, but was actively nudging. Again: fair enough.

"A vibroblade knife," she said. "Assignment from Saw. He gave it to me, after."

_Only limited by imagination and mercy_

Maybe… try. Something she'd always wanted to know. He could refuse to answer. But that could have been his version of an invitation.

"What's the story," she said quietly, "of that?" She moved her hand slowly until her fingertips brushed his ribs. Just there, as she'd only seen twice (including tonight), was one of the worst scars she'd seen on someone still walking. And the worst thing about it, as far as she could tell: it was stretched. From growing. He'd gotten it real young.

For a breath, she thought he was going to veto.

Then he said, steadily, a little distantly: "I was in a team that tripped a landmine. I was far enough away not to get killed; close enough to take shrapnel. There was more than just frag. It was loaded. I caught a meter of barbed monofilament in the ribs. I was an idiot and tried to pull it out myself. That did almost as much damage as when an Esk-Cresh grabbed the other end and dragged me."

Jyn's body was taut as a vibrowire. Second time violating her own rules, Jyn asked, "How old were you?"

"Not sure. Maybe eight."

Shit, she was staring. Again, war was hell, child soldiery sucked, so why…?

"My turn," he said, almost gently. "You ever have a best friend?"

Her mouth dropped open then stopped. She looked at him, heart thudding. _Veto?_

…No. She fixed her eyes, blasting clarity, and said: "Yes."

Then she barreled ahead: "What do you really think of Draven?"

He followed the protocol he'd established. He didn't ask who. (And dammit, if he couldn't read it in her eyes, then he was an absolutely lousy spy.) Nor did he protest the ruder question. (She tried to avoid even the border of pitting anyone from his earlier life against herself. …Though… hadn't he already proved how he'd go…?)

"He's the one who recruited me," he said. "He gave a lot of my training. He's behind most of my promotions. He trusts me. …He's some of the only family I've ever had."

……some of?

For the first time, Cassian hesitated. She understood why when he said: "Who exactly was the Man in White? To you?"

Her mouth dropped again. She said at last, "What do you mean?"

"We identified his name and rank," said Cassian. "I saw what he did to your father on Eadu. But I never knew what else. What was behind what passed between you on the tower."

How did he not know what…?

…he'd never asked. Until now, he'd never asked her. Not even brought it up.

Had she really never told him?

How did they _not already know_ these things about each other? What, for four years, had they been _doing?_

"He was friends with my father," she said. The word only slightly felt like gargling sand. "Since before I was born. They worked together for years. Only my parents finally realised what sort of work they were doing, and we ran. That's why we were on Lah'mu. Hiding from Krennic. But he found us. He took my father. After he murdered my mother."

Breathe.

"That's how I wound up with Saw. They'd sent a distress signal as soon as they knew Krennic was on us. I hid until Saw picked me up."

Her eyes hurt from fixing on nothing. She forced them to relax. That was when she realised how hard she'd also gripped down on Cassian's hand. And, in turn, when she realised he wasn't breathing. She opened her eyes.

He was looking unblinking back. “I’m so fucking glad I shot the mudcrutch."

She breathed like a laugh. "I was, too."

"I'm sorry I stopped you from going after him, yourself."

She shook her head. "No. I was glad. He wasn't worth the time. Not _that_ time."

It was her turn to hesitate. But this had been the goal, hadn't it? Get them both starting to just _ask._ Get out of their own strangling, unrelenting… The other could always veto. So, feeling the tension around her mouth, Jyn said: "But, out of interest. Why _did_ you stop me?"

She could see the thought of vetoing pass through his eyes. He didn't do it. "I was selfish. I thought I was about to die. Part of it was the hope you could get away. But really, I wanted as many of my last moments as possible to be with you."

She was blinking a feking lot. It was his turn and she didn’t care. “So… why didn’t you stay?”

His expression closed. A frown, a wince… a shield… "I don't want to…"

She was starting, angrily, to panic. _"What?"_

"…blame you."

Her breath caught a little. But… not… entirely… in a bad way. “You can,” she said.

He shook his head.

 _No. Pfassk._ Time to be out with it. She said, _“Do_ you?”

“No," he said. "I don’t. …But you being gone when I woke up… I think it… gave me a choice. Left it to me. If you’d just been there…”

She held her breath.

He suddenly turned his face to her, expression too hard to pin down, but at least less distant. "That's _four_ questions you just asked. So I get at least three, right?"

Her mouth was dry. “Counting that one," she said at last.

“Not a chance.” But he was a little closer to smiling. "Where did you go?"

Breathe. Breathe. “Skuhl. I’d had friends there. Who’d died. I couldn’t go back to where my parents had been, but I could go to where my friends had. Their house and garden were still there. I was able to survive for a year.”

A slight nod. Then: “Why did you come back?”

> She was simply done. Nothing she’d been so far would work anymore. Daughter, orphan, soldier, refuse, vagabond, thief, convict, hermit. Those were all shed and crumbled away. There was nothing even to try back on. It would have to be something else.
> 
> She knew she wouldn’t be able to find their new Base, alone. She also knew, instead, what to look for. With a half-dared half-faith, she mentally called to Chirrut. And sliced the autopilot to take her to Jedha.
> 
> The planet… couldn’t be said to be ‘healing’, but had stabilised. NiJedha would never be built again. And they weren’t there. Not Chirrut, Bodhi, or Baze.
> 
> Who _was_ there… refugee camps and relief teams. Some of whom wore Alliance symbols on their arms. And in one, a woman in white. Not Mon Mothma. This one was shorter, younger. Though with identical bearing: great capability, deep composure, immense weightedness. Jyn was sure she heard someone call her _Princess._ The woman was magnetic in everything she did, and most of all when she turned and—though most in the Galaxy would have overlooked her blending in—looked straight at Jyn. When Jyn didn’t take the invitation of being waved over, the woman in white crossed instead to her.

She blinked, feeling too much pouring out of her eyes. But she kept them on his.

> “How did you do it?” Jyn asked Leia, as they sat watching Jedha’s shrinking landscape through the transport view. “Keep going? After Alderaan? How did you have the… the courage, the strength, the… will, to not… just… retreat?”
> 
> Leia knitted her brow, eyes still on the planet. “I don’t know that it was brave or strong. Or an act of will. I… never felt like I was making a choice. Just… continuing, the only way I could. I’m in awe of what _you_ did. The prospect of just… sitting with it, without external distraction or goals, all by myself… it terrifies me. _That,_ to me, seems like it would require so much courage and strength. I don’t know if I could survive it.”
> 
> Leia Organa brought Jyn to Hoth, and she found them there. Chirrut, Baze, Bodhi, welcomed her as if she'd never left. They never asked her why she'd gone. They simply, literally, enfolded and embraced her. Like family. Like…

Jyn breathed: "You’d said 'welcome home'."

Cassian _stopped_ breathing again. His eyes flickered down—not avoidant. They fell on their hands, still entwined.

> She was waiting for Cassian when he returned, too. The look on his face when he saw her… the way he'd grabbed her into a hug… then took her face in his hands, just as she did his, and one or both of them—

“Can you forgive me for leaving?” whispered Jyn.

“I never needed to,” said Cassian. “I understood. Jyn, I understand.”

She felt a pressure that might have been a sob building in her chest. “If that’s true… why did _you **keep**_ leaving? You always took a new assignment as soon as you’d returned from the last. And you always took them alone. You never worked with any of us. …You never… stayed to… Or asked me to go with you. …If I hadn’t left, would you—?”

“It’s my turn.”

“Then ask me if I care,” she snapped. “You said my leaving gave you a choice you wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed. What do you mean?”

His hand twitched like he wanted to pull it away. She wanted to tighten her grip, hang on tight, keep him with her. But instead, with every bit of control she’d ever been taught and claimed and had battered into her and stolen back, she loosened her hand. Giving him the out.

Again—and again and again—he didn’t take it. “Two days with you and I jettisoned twenty years of… everything. I never put anything ahead of a mission in my life. In one day, I put you ahead of the mission three times. And… it was _better._ So much I’d thought I could never afford to be… I _got_ to be, walking beside you. I'd never go back. I was so glad to finish. With you. But then we didn't die. And the war didn't end. I knew, all my life, I’d always choose service, so I’d made sure I never have anything to choose it _over._ If you’d been there… But you weren’t, so I tried to see if I was still able to work against any of it. I did. I could. Then you came back, but… all the reasons and sacrifices and crimes and horrors, everything we’d lost and given up… it was all still there and if I could keep doing something about it… If you’d been there all along, if you were… with me, in… I couldn’t have made the choice. That would have been it. But I don’t know if we could have really… rested. I thought I had to keep trying. Maybe this time, not looking for the next way to die, but for the next way to come back. Not assuming the war would never end, but see if it actually _could._ Then maybe, I… we… Part of me didn’t think this would ever happen. At the same time, I don’t know how it’s been four years. I’ve been fighting everything moment by moment.”

It was one of the longest speeches he’d ever made. Jyn could only lie there, motionless, making herself breathe, keeping her eyes on his to the extent he was willing to meet them.

The game had evaporated. But something had to come next.

Finally, Jyn said very softly, “Three times?"

Cassian’s eyes flickered to hers, and there might have been a crinkle to their edges. “Twice on Jedha. Once on Eadu."

"Not Scarif?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't putting you ahead of the mission. Where you led _was_ the mission. I and the rest of us never turned from it. The Council had."

She felt it radiating from her eyes again—more information and emotion than mere tears could ever project—and wondered if he could read it.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

Him, without missing a beat: _“Who_ was your best friend?”

“Not _was._ If I didn’t ruin it… I want to be yours, too.”

“You didn’t ruin it. Not anymore than I did.”

“Then we both did. So neither of us did?”

The beginnings of… _hope._ in his eyes. “What would that mean, exactly?”

“I don’t know. There are things I think I want, sometimes, that other times I think might just… narrow things down… But I… think it might be worth trying. As long as… I don’t want to be so far apart ever again.”

“Neither do I.”

Tentatively, she tightened her hand again on his.

He not only returned the grip; he shifted closer and touched his other hand to her cheek. Might have murmured her name.

She knew her eyes had brightened, were possibly even tearing up, and she didn’t mind. She smiled. He smiled back.

“Last question,” she said.

Their foreheads were touching. Cassian murmured, “Anything.”

Jyn closed her eyes, breathed him in, moved her finger on his hand. Then murmured, “What _is_ your favourite pfassking colour?"

Cassian breathe-laughed so hard, it almost vocalized this time. “If I tell you now it’ll sound like—”

“Tell me now.”

His hand on her cheek gently flexed, to run his thumb beside her eyes. “You know what.”

She put her arms around him to pull them close together. Not sure if she’d sound firm or pleading, she risked it anyway: “I don't. Say it?”

He breathed in her arms, against her, and put his arms around her, too. He answered, “Stardust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurebesh glossary:
> 
> "Osk" = _O_. Plus, "apex glyph" = acute accent mark. Thus: _Jerón._ In honor of the name probably (not my own theory but widely held) being chosen for Diego Luna's real-life son, Jerónimo.
> 
> "Esk-Cresh" = _E-C_ = Enemy Combatant
> 
> Bonus: [Jyn's toys](https://d13ezvd6yrslxm.cloudfront.net/wp/wp-content/images/IMG_14501.jpg)


	5. 3281 LY aka 7981 CRC aka 4 ABY (Baze)

"An ancient people knew a god. Ae was found between life and death, decay and new life, warmth and cold, peace and violence. Ae was what bound and balanced them. Ae existed in all of them. The people prayed to aem for benevolent futures, for the calm between extremities, for guidance, for strength. They called aem _the Will._

Some dedicated their lives to aer study. They delved deeper. Their understanding grew. They realized that the Will had not created everything; it was created _by_ everything. It didn't oversee, it was a part. Life and the Will were not servant and master, child and parent, but one and the same.

Then one scholar had the revelation: if there was no separation between Life and the Will, the flow went both ways. The Will could guide and be guided. Control and be controlled. If one could return to true unity with the Will, they could embody that power, and through controlling themselves, control its power within them.

The scholar went into deep meditation, foregoing all arrogance of _self,_ letting the Will flow through em. When e returned to emself, e wielded such powers that had once been called divine.

E became the Prime Jedi. And because it was not, after all, a separate entity, e renamed the Will as _the Force._

For a thousand thousand years, the Jedi were those who devoted themselves to oneness. Those who learned the Force and unlearned the _self,_ so they could let the Force be with them without separation; to wield it and be wielded by it.

But, the galaxy started to forget. It began to see the Force as only for Jedi, and the Jedi Code as the only way to the Force. And one Jedi saw the danger in this. Should the Order fall, wisdoms and mysteries could be lost. As the Order survived, others, outside it, should be able, still, to learn. That anyone can become a Jedi, but one does not need to be a Jedi to be with the Force.

She tasked a new order to hold these truths. She retook the old name. She called us the Guardians of the Whills.

We maintained this trust while mourning the Jedi as gone. We maintain it while joyously witnessing their return. We are allies to the Jedi and independent from them. We are an aid to those who are not Jedi but wish more closeness with the Force. All are welcome. All can reach and hold and be with the Force.

I am one with the Force. The Force is with me."

At the back of the room, Baze's arms stayed crossed over his chest. Listening to Chirrut's voice, watching the others listen too, he let himself smile.

He had heard the legend many times. He'd taken turns telling it, long ago. He never would again. Even now as his… disillusionment… against all hopes, melted a little. His faith might never be the same as it had been, but, after all, they'd won against the Empire, and survived to see the Jedi return.

 _ **One** Jedi,_ Luke Skywalker would caution.

 _(K-2,_ Cassian had murmured in response, _would remind us of the infinite difference between 0 and 1.)_

It was enough, at least, for Wedge Antilles, captain of Rogue Squadron, to encourage all under his command to attend these sessions. _Especially since we're **named** after them,_ he had, irrelevantly but touchingly, said. Some didn't stay past a first sitting. Others came back every time. Knowing how Luke had brought down the [first] Death Star, none of them claimed it had nothing to do with flying. Baze could name some of them. Wedge Antilles, Shara Bey, Kes Dameron, Tarrin something, Kesin Ommis, Wes Janson… and, rarely, when they could make it, the likes of Chewbacca, Madine, and Ackbar. And, of course, Luke Skywalker.

Mon Mothma would have attended, but a combination of being too often called away and not wishing to distract anyone (for all that Ackbar and Skywalker inevitably did that, too), meant she usually didn't.

There was now, though, a different Human in white. She stood against the back wall, the same as Baze, with a far more troubled look on her face. As the meeting ended, she faded into a shadow to avoid the others as they left. Baze surreptitiously watched until Chirrut, inevitably, called, "Do you want to talk?"

The woman didn't seem surprised either. Still, she hesitated. Baze leaned toward her and rumbled gently, "Go on."

She gave him a look that was unsmiling but courteous. She crossed the room to Chirrut.

Chirrut smiled a welcome as she sat down. "You haven't been here before."

"I'm afraid not," she said.

"You have a question?"

She was silent another moment, considering. "I'm not sure. Maybe none. Maybe more than one."

"You have just learned something that calls everything into question."

"How do you— never mind. Yes, I have."

"Concerning the Force."

A wry smile from her. She didn't voice the _Obviously;_ only said, "Yes."

Chirrut, still smiling, inclined his head. "If you're willing to speak, I am listening."

The woman turned slightly in Baze's direction, without looking at him. Nor did she question his presence as she turned back to Chirrut. She knew, Baze decided, who they _both_ were.

"I just discovered," she said, "that the Force flows strong in my family. Who I didn't know _were_ my family. And that it may also be as strong… in me. That I could… follow the same path as… as them. But… they _didn't_ take the _same_ paths. One followed the Light. The other, the Dark."

Chirrut nodded like none of this was astonishing.

The woman took a steady breath, and reflexively (since Chirrut couldn't see it—or maybe it was for Baze) spread her hands. "I know that… which path one follows… is up to the person. Not… the lineage. That isn't really what worries me. Though of course it's… sobering."

Another Chirrut nod. Baze always appreciated watching how Chirrut's ability to convey deep understanding without judgment affected the ones he gave it to.

The woman actually smiled a little, and (charmingly) nodded back. She took another deep breath to continue. "The Jedi were recently extinct. My— Luke Skywalker is going to try to restore them. In that endeavor… am _I… obligated,_ to try? to become one, too? Even though… all my life, 'til now, I thought, was preparing me for a different role. Helping to establish not a new Jedi Order, but the New Republic."

"Can you not do both?" asked Chirrut peaceably.

"Not to the same degree," she said. "I don't think so. Not regarding… discipline. Mastery of technique. The level of dedication… I've given it to statescraft, diplomacy… I'm not sure I'm ready to start from scratch on something else. …I'm not sure I want to. Not if it means giving up the other. Or giving up the degree of contribution I can and want to give. Especially _now_ that it's so particularly needed. …And, again. I know the Jedi were also diplomats and involved in policy. And your story… was very encouraging. That one doesn't have to be a Jedi to be with the Force. But… I'm conflicted."

"And," said Chirrut softly, "there's one more element, isn't there? One that you respect less, in yourself, but should be recognized nonetheless?"

The woman shut her eyes, frowning. Her hands, in her lap, momentarily became fists.

"Yes," she said, growling a little, though not at Chirrut.

"The relative who went to the Dark," Chirrut suggested.

"Yes."

"You are angry."

The way she said _"Yes"_ had much harsher language inside it.

"It might help to speak of it plainly."

Her frown deepened. She _did_ finally glance at Baze.

"We will tell no one," Chirrut promised softly.

"I know," Leia Organa said equally softly. "I know you won't." She sighed. Then looked at Baze and tilted her head in invitation. Surprised, Baze locked the closed door, then crossed to sit with both of them.

Leia gave him a rueful smile. Shut her eyes again, let her hands play against one another. Then she breathed out, and spoke in an iron voice. "I _hated_ him. With everything I am, for everything _he_ was. He slaughtered millions. He helped enslave the Galaxy. He committed crimes up close and at great distance. He held me in place as they _destroyed my planet._ And my true parents with it. As if it's not enough that he murdered them, now I'm supposed to accept him… _supplanting_ them? As my _birth father?_ I know that's not how it works but… _how dare he?_ How dare the _universe?_ How dare the _**Force**?_ If this is how it works… the shape things take that some call 'destiny'… then I curse it. I don't want anything to do with it."

Then she gave a supremely humorless laugh. "…And yet, _'hate and anger lead to the Dark side'._ So he takes even _that_ away from me. I never let him have this power over me when he lived—even when I was his prisoner and he was my torturer. I never gave that to him. It's hard not to feel… that I'm having that turned back on me, now."

Baze tried to listen impassively, but it was hard not to shake his head at that—in profound agreement. He had never been called on to connect in any way with those who had razed his temple, and destroyed Jedha.

Chirrut had an expression of deep empathy. His ability not to judge in either direction was hard to believe, if you didn't know him as well as Baze did. He hoped Organa could believe it.

"If you want my thoughts," said Chirrut. And paused to find out.

"If you're willing," Leia repeated with a small but less cynical smile, " 'I am listening.' "

Chirrut smiled too, gravely. "I think if you doubt your material reasons because of your emotional ones… you do not need to. I believe both are sound and both are true. I do not think you are avoiding the path of the Jedi because you feel anger and hate. I think your path may truly lie elsewhere. And just because you choose statescraft rather than knighthood, that doesn't mean you are not also serving the Force. And can let the Force serve you. Besides, if you tried to become a Jedi out of obligation… you probably would not succeed."

Leia was listening with a furrowed brow, but her shoulders were relaxing a little. She cracked another smile at that last. "Good point."

Chirrut's smile turned still more sober. "However… I would not rule out pursuing more closeness with the Force. Even the path of a Jedi, later. And then… you are right to be wary of the Dark. Those feelings will not cease by suppression. So continue to admit them to yourself. And to others whom you trust. Do not try to force them away, nor let them consume you for long; but allow them to exist, and let them sit beside you. It is all right, not a sign of Darkness, that it will take a long time. It will not away. These are burdens beyond what some of the wisest and strongest have had to bear. Luckily, you have wisdom and strength yourself. You have already chosen differently than your blood father, every step of the way. That will not change just because you have learned more. And I suspect you _will_ find a way to use these things moving forward. Because I sense that's what _you want."_

Leia's exhalation was laden with so much. She let the moment hang; sit with all of them.

She said at last, "…It's very good to hear. Even though… I shouldn't expect you to… really know me. Or maybe you do. Or maybe you don't need to." She turned her sharp, bright eyes to Baze with another quick part of a smile. "You? Any thoughts?"

Baze, expressively, shrugged. "I could not preach as this one does," he said, "because he is capable of what he preaches, and I am not. Still, I agree."

Leia finally grinned in full. "That's _also_ good to hear." She turned to include them both. "I'm very grateful to you for taking this time. …Is there anything I can do for you?"

Chirrut grinned, too. "Serve the Force," he suggested. "As you already are."

Leia didn't laugh. "I'll work on it." She pushed herself to her feet with practiced grace. "…And in the meantime. If you _do_ ever need anything, Chirrut Îmwe and Baze Malbus; if I can be of help, ask for Leia Organa."

"We will," said Baze, with his own stoic version of Chirrut's smile.

Leia nodded to them both again, and left.

Baze levered himself to his feet. He took the hand Chirrut had already extended to him, to help his partner up, too.

"So?" said Baze.

"So?" returned Chirrut.

Baze rolled his eyes, knowing Chirrut could tell. "Do you know who she meant?"

"She didn't make it difficult."

"True. And did you know who she was?"

"Not by name," said Chirrut, "but in other ways. Yes."

"In other ways," said Baze, always a little mocking on principle, also knowing it was true. "Of course."

"Did you?" said Chirrut.

"Of course. She's famous."

"So are all of them, in different ways."

"Yes, yes. But I think Bodhi will have a different reaction hearing about _this_ one."

"We promised not to tell anyone."

"Not the content of what she said. But that we spoke to her at all? And she lived up to her reputation? And still wanted _your_ advice?"

Chirrut laughed. "You're right. We should tell Bodhi. He'll like it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wookieepedia, that repository of all _SW_ knowledge and wisdom, has no IC/in-universe explanation on the origin of the Guardians or of the name _Whills._ But there are these quotes:
> 
> 1:  
> "Originally, I was trying to have the story be told by somebody else (an immortal being known as a Whill); there was somebody watching this whole story and recording it, somebody probably wiser than the mortal players in the actual events. I eventually dropped this idea, and the concepts behind the Whills turned into the Force."  
> ~ George Lucas in _Star Wars: The Annotated Screenplays_
> 
> 2:  
> KASDAN: The Force is available to anyone who can hook into it?  
> LUCAS: Yes. Everyone can do it.  
> KASDAN: And not just the Jedi?  
> LUCAS: It's just the Jedi who take the time to do it.  
> MARQUAND: They used it as a technique.  
> LUCAS: Like yoga. If you want to take the time to do it, you can do it. But the ones who really want to do it are the ones who are into that kind of thing. Also like karate.  
> ~ exchange between George Lucas, screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, and director Richard Marquand in _The Making of "Star Wars: Return of the Jedi"_
> 
> 3:  
> LUKE SKYWALKER: What do you see?  
> REY: The island. Life. Death and decay, that feeds new life. Warmth. Cold. Peace. Violence.  
> LUKE: And between it all?  
> REY: Balance and energy. A force.  
> LUKE: And inside you?  
> REY: Inside me, that same Force.  
> LUKE: And this is the lesson. That Force does not belong to the Jedi.  
> ~ dialogue by Rian Johnson in _The Last Jedi_
> 
>  _So,_ in honor of R1 retconning canon since 2016, and tribute to Timothy Zahn the absolute grand master, I made up this origin story to try to connect these tidbits up. (Presumptuous as kark? You betcha!)
> 
> The names of the pilots are from wookieepedia; members of Rogue Squadron who were still alive after _RotJ._
> 
> "Let it sit beside you" is advice I got from a beloved Comparative Religion professor, which feels good given the loosely Taoist origins of the ideas of the Force.


	6. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ (Cassian, Jyn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAH I HOPE THIS WORKS IN ANY WAY.
> 
> CW: allusion to violent noncon

* * *

_Cassian leaned over, closed his eyes, and pressed his flushed forehead to Kay's cool chestplate._

_"It's lowering the filters on your mind. I don't enjoy that. I don't want my mind to go anywhere it can."_

* * *

*** * ***

* * *

Don't you see?  
About me?

_ * * *_   


_**Slow it.** _

* * *

"Hey!" Cassian skidded to a halt, the perfect distance away to be nonthreatening, close enough not to keep yelling. He made a show of leaning on his own knees to catch his breath. "Thank you, you found him. I've been looking everywhere." 

The four organics who'd been kicking the little droid looked at each other. Cassian didn't give them time to respond. He leveled his gaze at the droid and launched into a tirade in a language the organics wouldn't know; so rapidfire and dramatic as to replace any wariness with awkwardness and overwhelm. Less than a minute of it and the organics thrust the droid into his hands and told them both to clear out. Cassian kept reaming out the droid in the far-flung language until they were safely gone. 

Setting the droid back on its wheels, Cassian asked in an instantly different tone, "You okay? They do anything to you?" 

"I'm intact and functional," the droid replied. "Thank you for the assistance." 

"Of course. Can I help you get where you're going?" 

"No, I can transport myself." 

"Are you sure? Unaccompanied droids are at risk here." 

"As demonstrated," she said. "But I don't have much farther. Pardon me, I wasn't programmed to recognise the language you were using." 

"That's what I was going for." 

"Nonetheless, I'm sorry I didn't understand your feedback to me." 

Cassian halfgrinned. "It wasn't feedback. It was mostly U-wing parts."

* * *

what game are we playing?  
no, I was always  
I'm sorry I didn't understand what you said to me  
without saying goodbye, of course not  
the universe is larger than any one  
were you trying to hurt yourself?  
  
* * *  
  
**_Slow._ **

* * *

what you really stand for  
what was about to happen  
someone was driving  
uncrossably apart

** * * *  
  
_What is… when…_ **

* * *

one of us has to make it  
an even worse universe

**_* * *  
  
Slow. Focus. Coalesce. Is this…?_ **

* * *

man in white shot me  
jyn screamed my…  
gotta help jyn  
where are you kay  
man in white shot— 

* * *

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

* * *

She sat on her own, scarf hiding half her face, convincingly pretending to watch the band play. When he first saw her like that, he hadn't known her at all. Now he'd know her anywhere.

Cassian slid into the chair beside her. Her eyes never left the band. Her hand smoothly moved under the table, was met by his, and she passed him a datacard. "Together again?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"How are we doing?"

"Same as ever."

"That bad, huh?"

He smiled. He wanted to let his hand linger, trace a finger along hers.

She removed her hand to the tabletop and folded it around her drink. "I never meant to come here again," she said softly.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't be sure." He could look at pretty much _anything_ and explain why it was his fault.

She turned her face to him at last. The light caught her eyes despite the shadow of her scarf. "What game are we playing?" she muttered.

He tried another smile. It was harder, face tenser, and came out rueful. "Can we play _your_ game?"

She lifted a brow at him, but with amusement now in her stardust eyes. "Don't you want a drink?"

"I've got water."

"Nothing else?"

"I hate intoxicants."

"What? I've seen you drink."

"To blend in. You ever see me get a refill?"

"Huh. Just curious… it's fine; but why don't you like them?"

"Lowering inhibitions… lowering control… it's lowering the filters on your mind. I don't enjoy that. I don't want my mind to go anywhere it can."

She nodded and said, "Okay. Let's play. You first."

* * *

_ Cassian stopped reading to her. "You can't know what any of this means. Aren't you bored?"  
Half-asleep in the crook of his arm, four-year-old Linat muttered, "Your stupid accent makes it nice." _

* * *

"They were protesting," the officer explained. "Mostly peacefully. Then someone started throwing rocks. Minor property damage and four civilian injuries. We pulled them to scan for heavier weaponry and allocate fines."

He'd been in plenty of protests, peaceful and not. Why was he suddenly thinking of _that_ Riot?

"There are more people here than rocks thrown," said Cassian. "Are you charging them all?"

"If no one—"

A voice from the end of the line suddenly choked, _"Jorah?"_

* * *

He kept the confiscated blaster aimed with one hand and flicked on his comm in the other. "Imperial officer reporting six would-be assailants," said Cassian. "One in urgent need of medical attention."

He sent it to Coruscanti emergency services, not the Imperial force. For all Coruscant was an Imperial-held world, there might be some difference. The local forces might be more sensitive to the intricacies of their city—more of the reasons criminals might become so; and might offer help and leniency for changing sides. The Imperial military would simply punish.

It wasn't quite what Joreth Sward should do. It was the only way Cassian would.

* * *

"I don't like it," said Kaytoo.

"Do you ever, at this stage?"

"Once. Out of forty-two." Kay's oculars swiveled to encompass the room. "Just don't expect me to join a singalong to provide distraction."

"You can sing?" Cassian with genuine intrigue.

"I'm capable of many things," Kay retorted. "That doesn't mean I'm going to."

"Fine, fine." Cassian held up his hands. "But next time we're stuck in hyperspace, you're doing the best of BoSS Code for me."

"You first."

* * *

_Travel 101: You only insult your **own** homeland._

* * *

Cassian: "What was your favorite thing about Lah'mu?"

Her eyes were momentarily brightened by something that wasn't barlight. Her face told him, plainly, she recognized the gruesome irony—in saying finally: "The beach.

"The black sand. The clear water. The cliffs above. So much sky… The waves were little, gentle. I'd always sit at the tide line and let them come and go at my feet. Apparently the only time I'd sit still for so long, not be doing a hundred things at once. And the sand. It was more pebbles than granules… so it was soft. I'd love to watch my feet sinking in after a wave." She looked into his eyes as her hand curled around her glass. "I've never wanted to go back before. But I'd go with you."

* * *

_Maybe it was that he was good at interesting things. Some things they would beg him to show or play at with them and he diverted or refused. He would never ever play war games.  
Maybe it was that he talked to them like they were adults. It was how he'd been talked to as a child. He didn't know how children were "meant" to be talked to.  
Maybe because he explained more to them than any adult ever had.  
Maybe because he had a different way of looking at things.  
Maybe they reacted instinctively to the ache of what he would always consider just cost for just cause._

* * *

The detainment officer turned to look down the line of protesters. Cassian had already started moving. No one had called him _Jorah_ since 3275. And then only one—because she hadn't been able to pronounce _Joreth_ —

End of the line. Human with Coruscanti-pale skin and cropped copper hair, standing tense and hostile, looking at him with eyes almost childlike again in disbelief.

"I'm going to interview this one in the office," said Cassian. "You continue as you were. We should be able to wrap all this up quickly." To all of them: "We're going to find out what happened. It would be nice if we didn't have to take so much time. If you started cooperating. We don't want to penalize all of you for the actions of a few. After all, as you well know—" (it was what they'd been protesting: ) "we're not the Empire. But if you feel right covering up for violence, you can share the fines. We're not here to force you. …Maybe find out what you really stand for." 

* * *

He wouldn't expect anyone else, outside SpecForce, to perform that precise sequence of procedures. If everyone could do what he'd been trained to… forget about him being out of a job: It would be such a(n even) worse universe.

* * *

Her turn. "Stupidest injury."

"Oh kriff. …Dantooine. Broke my toe on the landing platform. No combat, not running, didn't trip or get run over. Just did it."

She looked at him too deeply. "Did you kick something? Were you _trying_ to hurt yourself?"

"That's two more questions."

* * *

_ Knowing a thing is possible **first** makes it easier to accomplish. _

* * *

"So what do we do in the meantime?" said Kaytoo. "I mean, converse, obviously; but about what?"

Cassian sat back, loosening his collar with one hand, surreptitiously checking his holstered blaster with the other. "I dunno, Kay. You been thinking about anything special lately?"

"Jokes."

Cassian wondered if he was about to smile. "Really?"

"Really. I heard some from that astromech who likes me."

"The orange C1?"

"Yes. Does humour have to be rude?"

"Doesn't _have_ to. That's more about the teller."

"What's an example of humour that's _not_ rude?"

…Hang on. "Are you asking me to tell a joke?"

"Any reason you wouldn't?"

"Ruining my reputation?"

"Here?"

True. There was no one in this bar who knew them. At last, Cassian made a face. "Ugh. Um… Not rude. Okay.

"A crew's separated from their ship and make camp in a field. The captain wakes them in the middle of the night, and says, 'Look up at the stars. What do they tell you?'  
The navigator says, 'We are currently near the equator.'  
The ambassador says, 'Their constellations reflect a matriarchal mythology.'  
The pilot says, 'The universe is larger than one being could ever explore.'  
The mechanic frowns at all of them and says, 'That somebody stole our tent.' " 

* * *

_ …he'd thought how funny she would grow up to be. And how innocently, obliviously, cruelly Imperial. _

* * *

He closed the office door and turned to face the detained protester with the copper hair. She must be fifteen years old. Back then, when he was undercover embedded with Imperial Admiral Grendreef—and had inevitably bonded with—

"Hello, Linat," he said.

"I didn't think you'd know me again," said the Admiral's daughter.

"I didn't think _you'd_ know _me,"_ said Cassian.

"I didn't 'til you spoke."

( _…"your stupid accent"…_ )

"Is this why you left us?" Linat didn't try to hide the betrayal in her voice at all. "You joined the Rebellion?"

Cassian only looked at her.

A testament to his performance—success at integration—or just the trust of a child—her realization seemed genuine. With utter, unstaled shock. "…You were _always_ Rebellion. You were there to spy on us."

"You never thought it? After?"

She shook her head. Angry. Wounded. "I thought you _liked_ us."

"I _did."_

( _Your mission was—_ )

"I did like you."

( _Why are you behaving—_ )

"Especially you and Dyv."

( _Those kids—_ )

Linat crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look only furious. "Well. Who _are_ you, then? Really? Is your name even Joreth?"

( _I never tried—_ )

"No. My name's Cassian."

"Who's Joreth Sward?"

It was so strange to hear her say it with adult inflection. "No one. I didn't steal an identity. We built it to match your father's request for an aide."

Her mouth twitched. After a moment: "So did you get it? Whatever you needed from us?"

( _If you had—_ )

"That's why I was recalled."

"Without saying goodbye."

( _That could have—_ )

He only said: "Of course not."

( _They'd have seen—_ )

"Of course," Linat repeated. Coldly, but also… with a kind of… wonderment. Finally, it made sense.

( _—whispering to Kay how lost he felt. Living a day-in, day-out life. With an enemy he was growing to love._ )

* * *

_"Your mission was a success," said Mon Mothma. "Why are you behaving as though you failed?"_

_ "Those kids. I never tried to tell them. What they believe. What they're being taught. I never tried to tell them otherwise." _

_"If you had," said Mothma, "they would have seen you executed."_

_" **That** could have worked," Cassian snapped. "Couldn't it? They'd have seen the face of it."_

* * *

Kay's oculars focused motionlessly on Cassian. Then he tipped his head. "Interesting."

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

"I liked it," said Kay.

Wow. Okay. Cassian finally allowed a bit of a smile. It froze when Kay added, _"Do_ you know rude ones?"

Cassian choked on his drink. "I mean… _yes._ Any amount of travel…"

Kay tilted his head another way: expectantly.

Cassian heaved another long-suffering sigh, and picked one that was only selectively rude. (On prudish planets. But also often across the organic-mechanical divide, since it was a bit exclusionary.) "Why is sex terrible at lightspeed?"

Kay looked at him.

Cassian gestured. "You ask 'why'."

"Why do I need to when you just did?"

"It's part of the structure."

"That everyone knows?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh. 'Why?' "

Cassian didn't explain how rhythm and pacing were important and currently ruined. For now, with greater resignation: "You can find the position or the momentum but not both at once."

Cassian wasn't prepared for Kay to… hum. "That's a physics joke."

"Right."

" 'Physical' in two ways."

"Sure."

"I like it."

"Two for two. Wow."

"Tell one I _won't_ like."

"Is this going to go on much longer?"

"Would you rather discuss the status of your relationship with Jyn Erso?"

Cassian violently blinked. "Why the hell—?"

"Just picking another topic of recent thought."

Cassian grunted and again grabbed his drink. "What do you say when you see a speeder full of Jawas?"

" 'Why' is syntactically inappropriate. 'What?' "

" 'Look: it's a speeder full of Jawas.' "

Kay… groaned.

"There's a part two." Cassian took a swig. It was just water, but the gesture was what was needed. "What do you say when you see a speeder full of Jawas wearing visors?"

" 'Look: it's a speeder full of Jawas wearing visors' ? "

"Nothing. You don't recognize them."

Kay's oculars blinked on and off. "But Jawas' individual recognisability is already obscured by—"

"It's not just double meanings," said Cassian. "Sometimes it's expectation subversion."

"Oh." Kay's oculars flickered again. Then he said, "More, please."

Well… not like Kay hadn't already seen more sides of Cassian than anyone else had.

* * *

_There's no 'supposed to'. It's only 'wrong' if it's cruel. As long as you're really in it together, both wanting to be, it works._

* * *

Her: "A good memory from your childhood."

He almost vetoed. "Two other soldiers who came in same time, same age, as me."

( _…since I was…_ )

"Surat and I needed toughening up. Lyyxo came tough already. We were drilling, near a runoff. There was a crevasse none of us saw. Surat fell. Lyyxo grabbed him, and got pulled in too, but managed to brace herself. She told me to go get help. I didn't. I anchored myself to an outcrop and pulled them up. We collapsed, and then we just… were hugging each other. All three of us. We were just so grateful for each other and to be together."

"Shavit," she murmured. "I thought _my_ childhood was depressing. Where are they now?"

"Still there—Sullust. As far as I know."

"We could go _there_ together," she offered.

Cassian shook his head. "They never agree to come with me. They don't want to believe in anything again."

_* * *_

_I couldn't sleep wondering where the sun had gone. Then it dawned on me._  
_One rock says: 'Do you ever feel the weight of the world pressing down on you?' The other rock says: ' **Aaah!** A talking rock!'_  
_Why are roboticists never lonely? They're always making friends._

For the first time as far as Cassian knew—maybe, for the first time, discovering he _could_ —Kaytoo _laughed._

* * *  


She looking up at him from below simultaneously wary and trusting  
His hand moving to touch her face  
[her stardust eyes…]  
Instead finding, against his will, his hand going to her throat

One grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the console  
Two grabbed and pinned his wrists  
The first kicked his feet apart from behind  
At least one whipped off his belt and ripped down his fatigues  
and it took all he had to clench his teeth  
not to scream into his hidden comm for Kay to save him from what was about to happen

* * *

man in white shot me  
jyn screamed my…  
gotta help jyn  
where are you kay  
man in white shot—

* * *

When he jerked and screamed, it was Kay's hands that woke him, and pinned him down so he didn't hurt himself. He couldn't fall asleep in the bunk again. Instead he sat with Kay in the cockpit, listening to nonsense chatter on the comms. When his head began to sag, and Kay put a metal arm around his flesh-and-bone shoulders, Cassian let himself lean over, close his eyes, and press his flushed forehead to Kay's cool chestplate. 

When he woke, there was sunlight, and Kay had kept Cassian propped against him all night.

* * *

"What do you call droids on the same team?" attempted Kay. _" 'Alloys'."_

* * *

The explosion had left him torn up and temporarily deaf. For the first and last time, She held his hand; pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face as, unanaesthetised, they pulled the filament from his side and dug the shrapnel out of his eight year-old back.  Bad as that was, scarred as it left him, he found what came next worse. The sudden deafness was worse. Later, he'd be glad he'd had to learn to lip-read; that skill was useful for the rest of his life. With time, if his hearing hadn't come back, he would have adjusted. Right then, though, so abruptly, it was terrifying and frostbitingly desolate, that he was unable to understand those right there. Being physically close and uncrossably apart.

* * *

Once-caregiver and once-child looked at each other across the room and knew it was useless. They would never see the same things. Not easily. Maybe it could have been easy once, but it was too late.

Cassian stood aside. Linat Grendreef passed him, head ducked low. Then she paused. Her shoulder almost touching his chest, she turned her copper head; and she whispered, " 'Cassian' 's a nicer name than 'Joreth'. …Can I remember you as Jorah anyway?"

His heart beat in his throat. _I never tried to tell them otherwise._

"No," he said at last. "I was always Cassian."

* * *

"If you think you've 'broke'," said Kay, "then you shouldn't go back. We should leave. Right now." 

Cassian closed his fingers around Kaytoo's. He guided the droid's hand away. (Not move it: Cassian would never be strong enough to move any part of Kay, but he could give signals for Kay to follow. For Cassian alone, Kay always would.) 

"I'll check in," muttered Cassian. "Mon Cal blink code, tonight, to confirm the mission's continuing. If I don't, you're to evacuate." 

"Cassian—" 

"Kay. One of us has to make it back." 

In all the ways he'd imagined his own death or destruction, this hadn't been one of them. Taken down so gently. So tenderly. By someone who hadn't meant to bring him down at all.

( _The Rebellion doesn't want to take anything from you. We don't want to destroy what you love about life. We want those things for everyone else, too._ )

Linat shut her eyes. Nodded tightly and walked quickly out.

* * *

He squeezed into the war machine and nearly lost his arm in the gears. —nightmare—deafening, crushing machinery—but he managed to deposit his handful of pebbles and grit right where She'd said. As the pistons taller than him and cogs the size of his head and joints that threatened to snap him began to groan and seize, he scrambled and wriggled and finally fell out. He tumbled, cracking his head and arm on the everwarm obsidian ground. He pushed himself with his remaining arm and _rolled._ The incline saved him, carrying him farther than he could have himself; and the Republic walker exploded behind him. 

Cassian raised his head. Ears ringing, eyes dazzled, everything hurting, but… starting to dare to hope—only one year in the CIS and maybe already he'd proved— 

and he realized, jolting, far too late,  
**someone had been driving.  
**(seven years old—) He'd just killed the operators.

* * *

"Can you forgive me?"

She blinked at him. "For what?"

 _For how I panicked. For your climbing off. For you saying 'Stay with me.' For playing the game._ "Putting you in that position. Of… You know you didn't do anything wrong, right? You didn't do anything wrong to me. And you didn't trigger, what I—"

"Hey." She stopped him. "I appreciate that. But I understand."

Trust her. He swallowed and nodded. And asked at last: "Would you ever want to try again?"

She grinned a wicked, lovely grin. "Hell yes."

He tried and failed to return it. "Even if it happens again?"

"So let it. I want everything good with you. I also want everything bad. …Not that I want bad things. For either of us. But. You know… if we're going to have them anyway, I'd rather have them together. You're never going to hurt me."

"You can't know that."

"Okay. Yeah. I know. The universe is terrible. You could die. That would hurt. But that wouldn't be you hurting me. We could have a nightmare and hit the other person without meaning to, or mistake them for someone in the dream, or…" She shut her eyes, scowling, and waved her hand. "Listen. Kid soldiers. I can imagine every scenario you can. We could be captured by sadists and you'd have to hurt me to save my life… or do something terrible to me to stop someone else from doing it worse. I'd want you to. So… there. Permission preemptively granted."

"Let's not get into that situation, okay?"

Her amazing smile. "Agreed. All I mean is… if there's anyone in the universe who can look into your darkness and actually get it— it's me. I've been hating and fighting and running from all the darkness in everyone and the galaxy and myself my whole life. But yours… I don't hate. And I don't need to fight. And I don't want to run. I don't fear it. And I know you feel the same way about mine. 'Cause they're—we're—so much the same."

"Yes, they are. We are. I do. All of it. …Jyn… I should tell you—"

* * *

I know what you've been through. I don't want to do any of it to you again. I want you to have everything good in the universe. I don't know if you can if it's with me. I know it's your choice not just mine but how can I justify burdening you with me or rewarding myself with you— That's not… I know that's not… I'm not thinking of you as… but it's so hard to… I trust you. I don't trust me. So how can I be sure, how can I promise, that…? When have I ever been able to let my _feelings_ guide my life—

If I had the luxury of choosing my weakness, it would be you. Every time. Every way. Not just 'cause anyone trying to get to me through you would be in for a nasty shock, from you. I…

I don't know how to believe. I don't… How do I ask you? What's too much to put on another person? Why do I even feel… anything… this way, when I'd succeed in living my life alone…? We both know how to be alone… we've _had_ to… it's been forced on us and hard won and all we recognize in each other has that but could we possibly know… something else…? Am I betraying and demeaning you if I want to tear that down…?

I never should have gone, I should… I wanted… I didn't know whether… even if I managed, if you weren't there with me… but also what if you _were_ …?

I should still tell you, because it isn't just my choice, you deserve so many more choices than the universe gave you… and I've _wanted_ to tell you, but **I want to tell you when it will _count._** When it's clear and on purpose and we both know it wasn't because of a compromised state—not 'cause I was dosed on a mission or you were half-conscious from hypothermia or one or both of us was still stuck in a dream or mid-mission we couldn't be sure there wasn't second meaning or stupid circumstance seemed to be forcing us down that road… when we both know it's _real._ Because it _is._ I love you. I love you. Any way you'll have me. If you never want to see me again, I'll go, right away, you wouldn't have to say or do a thing more and I'd leave you alone for the rest of my life; but I'd go away and still love you. We never have to do anything; if I can still be on your team, I'm so glad. But, skies, you thought I _didn't_ want…? Stars, Jyn, I've wanted to make love with you since you said trust went both ways…

* * *

The band started playing BoSS kriffing Code.

Kaytoo turned his oculars—  
—Lyyxo, her compound eyes—  
—Linat actually grinned—  
—to him.

Cassian ducked his head. Breathed through his nose. He murmured to the other, "This is top secret, you understand?"

"I'll never tell anyone," said Kay/Lyyxo/Linat.

Cassian shut his eyes and grimaced. But he'd promised. So he leaned in to the other and, with the music, under his breath: (Force, he _hated_ this stupid pfassking song—)

_"Don't walk alone into the fire  
Don't end in battle. We'll bring the war  
Don't you try to tell me how  
It's just us—there's something higher  
They can't take me from you now_

_Please let me walk beside you  
Accept I'm yours forever  
I'll fight the wars inside, too  
'Til you signal your surrender"_

_* * *_

an even worse universe  
one of us has to make it  
uncrossably apart  
someone was driving  
what was about to happen  
what you really stand for  
were you trying to hurt yourself  
the universe is larger than any one  
without saying goodbye of course not  
I'm sorry I didn't understand what you said to me  
no I was always  
what game are we playing

** Don't you see? About me?  
  
**

He reached across the table—in the light of her green eyes—for her hand, imploringly. "Jyn—"

* * *

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

* * *

He opened his eyes.

It was… medbay. A curtained-off bed. He couldn't tell time of day. Not even if in space or planetside.

His lifting head incited reaction. Next to the bed, a shadow sat quickly upright. She leaned forward, putting a hand over his, features resolving into those of Jyn Erso.

It was always easier to breathe at her side. Just standing on the same planet.

—Or, well, lying on it.

"When are we?" Cassian asked in a parched rasp.

"Hang on." She turned to a bedside stand, grabbed a tumbler and held it out. He took it, belatedly seeing the infuser stuck in his arm, and drank cautiously, then deeply. Water.

She was watching him with eyes lit by the dim lamps. (Though her eyes always blazed, to him, no matter how dark it was.) She didn't mishear his question as _Where._ She knew him. "Four years after Scarif. A week after the end of the war."

He closed his eyes and ran back his memory. "I'm missing time."

"Yeah, you are." She took and set the tumbler back on the endtable. And her hand… not over his, this time. Just on the mattress next to it. "You know how someone can be working so hard, pushing themselves nonstop, stressed and frantic and the rest; but the instant they're done, and safe, and can relax, everything catches up to them and they get sick and collapse?"

"I collapsed."

"Literally. Scared Bodhi blind. Baze had to carry you."

( _Once it would have been Kay. Skies. 'Alloys'._ ) 

"You've been in medical with a high fever for days. You'd come in and out but you were kinda delusional. You fucking scared me."

( _Delusional._ ) 

_Kay laughing._ Of course that wasn't real. Kay hadn't been able to.

But _some_ of them had been memories. Some of it had been true.

Fuck… so…?

"Did I say anything?" he asked, mouth dry again.

Jyn gave a slight, tight smile. "We played Questions a lot. You answered what I asked. Not sure you knew where—when—we were, though."

"…You liked the beach on Lah'mu."

"You broke your toe on Dantooine."

Okay. Okay. "Did I say anything else?"

She was too hard to read. "Not a lot."

_( I've loved you since_  
_I've wanted to make love with you since_  
_Don't you see about me?_  
_Just let me… beside you  
__I'd go with you_ )

He shut his eyes again. The pain that _he hadn't said it. She hadn't heard it._

"Will I get out of here soon?" he muttered.

"This is the most lucid you've been," she said, "and it seems like your fever's broke. I haven't hit the alert 'cause this doesn't seem like an emergency; but I can if you don't want to wait for morning to get a medical opinion."

…she was sitting with him overnight. For how many times…? "No. It's fine. I'm still tired."

"You're on some soporifics. Among other things. You were in rough shape."

"Just from…?" 

"Malnutrition. Anaemia. Severe exhaustion. All exacerbating an infection you hadn't bloody told anyone about. And, eval pending, possibly a bit of nervous collapse."

( _If you think you've broke_ ) 

He grunted. "Great."

Abruptly, she stood from her chair and leaned over him, looking into his eyes. "You ever let yourself get that bad again— _ever_ do that to _us_ again—I'll kill you. You got it?"

( _I don't hate. I don't need to fight. I don't want to run. I don't fear it._ ) 

"Got it. I'm sorry."

 _"Good."_ She sat back down. Her hand was touching his again. "You need any painkillers to get back to sleep?"

"No."

"I _just_ said I'd kill you."

"…Maybe. For my head."

"Better." She picked up the datapad, tapped on it, and the drip bag above him gave a sound of fresh infusion.

"You… don't have to stay," he whispered; when he wanted to plead, _Stay._

Her hand slipped finally into his. "I know," she murmured back. "Sleep, Cassian."

"…Jyn…"

* * *

And he was gone from her again.

Jyn sat quietly, watching. How come, unlike just about everyone else, Cassian's face didn't relax when he slept? He still seemed worried. All the time.

She checked his vitals on the datapad. Punched the pillow behind her to get comfortable again. Then paused.

She stood. Looked down at him. Brushed his hair back from his forehead.

She leaned over and murmured, "Nice BoSS Code."

Running her fingers just a moment longer through his hair; she whispered, almost to hide it from herself: "And yeah. Tell me again, some time. When it will _'count'."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "orange C1" rude astromech is a cameo from _Rebels._
> 
> "Together again?" "Wouldn't miss it. How are you doing?" "Same as ever." "That bad, huh?" —Han/Luke from _Return of the Jedi._
> 
> "the little girl in Garel City" is S1E7 of "Star Wars: Forces of Destiny".
> 
> Admiral Grendreef/Joreth Sward are from canonical supplementary guides.
> 
> Linat, Dyv, Surat, Lyyxo, and Khryw—with some of the accompanying quotes—are from _[Quiero Saber](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128073/chapters/27513813)._ 'Cause my own backstory for Cas is so rooted in my brain, I guess it crosses all my subsequent fics. I'm so screwed when the Disney+ show comes out. (But I also CAN'T WAIT)
> 
> Jokes adapted to the SW universe, for better or worse, by me.
> 
> The band name "BoSS Code" and their signature song title _"Signal Your Surrender"_ I got from Wookieepedia. The terrible unsubtle (but hopefully appropriately so to a pop song and/or hallucination) lyrics are by me.


	7. 4 ABY (Bodhi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Myself:** Remember how much I overthought this issue in _[Silver in Your Dark Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399818/chapters/31853718)_?  
>  **Still Myself:** Hold my beer.
> 
> (Though I’m relieved to recheck and see that SiYDH!Kay explicitly said, “I will accept whatever housing.. is available [for my backup].” See what knots Organics tie themselves into when insufficiently instructed, Kay?)

Bodhi's hands froze over the board. He looked around, as if Cassian's empty quarters might have gained another presence after all. Or maybe because, suddenly—at last—it felt like they _could_ again…?

Another moment for racing thoughts; then Bodhi jabbed a datacard into the terminal. He transferred what he needed, grabbed it back out, and dashed for the door.

* * *

It sure seemed like she hadn't been awake, but Jyn raised her head from atop her own arm on Cassian's mattress. "Bodhi? You okay?"

"I'm fine," said Bodhi. Though wishing he'd rushed through Medical more quietly. "Is he okay? And how are you?"

"He's much better," said Jyn. "His fever broke last night. He's still going to be out of it for a few days but he's out of danger and should be allowed back to his own quarters, soon."

"And you?" repeated Bodhi.

Jyn vaguely gestured. "Anyway, you here to see him or me? He's probably not going to wake up again for a few hours."

"Well, both," said Bodhi, "but hoping to talk to you."

Jyn tried to smile for him. "Here or somewhere else?"

Thinking what _he'd_ say, Bodhi asked Jyn on Cassian's behalf: "Have you eaten?"

Jyn made a face.

Translation: of course not. "Come to the canteen with me," said Bodhi. "I'll tell you my thing over food."

Jyn made a point of sighing. But she glanced at Cassian as well. She nodded.

Bodhi pretended not to see the way her fingers trailed down Cassian's hand before she finally stepped away. Not because it bothered _him,_ but because Jyn and Cassian's connection—while seeming, in some ways, as elemental and eternal as the laws of gravity and bones of the earth; in _other_ ways, seemed like a tiny prey animal who could be scared off if looked at wrong.

Jyn turned at last to Bodhi and nodded for him to lead the way.

* * *

"All this time—" Bodhi, feeling flushed, gulped his drink, "—I've been looking for back-door opportunities. But _now,_ for a quick window, we could go straight to the source."

Jyn's brow was crinkled. Her hands cupped around her soup.

"I know," said Bodhi, forestalling, "there are cases in the Galaxy… peoples and organisations whose day-to-day life isn't affected much by who's in power. So they don't really care if it's the Alliance or the Empire." They were the _minority,_ though they rarely thought so; but on the opposite end of the curve, the peoples and systems that literally lived or died with each government. In the middle, the point he was trying to make: "Arakyd Industries isn't one of them."

"It really isn't," said Jyn sourly. "They were established by and for Imperial military. Their whole ethos… their loyalties… they won't change so easily just because the Empire's officially karked."

"But," agreed Bodhi, "they're the premiere supplier of wardroids for the Empire. With no advance warning that market was about to tank. Until they figure out what else to do with it, they're sitting on a surplus."

"You don't think they're just going to declare a sale?"

"I'm not sure what they'll do." In fact, he was thinking of mentioning this to somebody. If Arakyd found a new client, it might be someone arming against the New Republic. Though Bodhi also was nervous presuming that the Alliance needed someone like _him_ to point out such things. "—but I definitely think it's our opportunity."

Jyn thought a moment longer. Then, as she'd failed to do before, her lips creased in a smile. "Okay. You're on point for this. What's your call?"

 _He_ was…? Wait, no. He was telling her first because _she_ was the one who led their way…

"Um…" He blinked. But Jyn's expression was so encouraging, he tried to shift gears.

Okay. Their main issue was that Arakyd KX security models weren't like astromechs: they weren't meant to be affordable to private individuals. Even among combat droids… Baktoid B1s were designed to be canon fodder, [inefficient in small numbers](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Battle_droid), so only war leaders purchased them because they were only purchased in bulk. Each KX was for single, long-term, heavyweight use. Nobody had them except millionaires… and the Empire.

Bodhi thought quickly. "Talk to… Draven, I guess?" As Cassian's, and so presumably Kaytoo's, CO. Having been trained by the Empire, even after rebelling, it was hard for Bodhi not to think hierarchically. He didn't think petitioning the Alliance Cabinet was how to go—even assuming the positions of _Minister of Finance/Industry/Supply_ were going to carry over to whatever form the New Republic would soon take. "About procuring funds."

Plus, the face Jyn was making at the prospect of talking to Draven was probably nothing compared to the one she'd make regarding Jebel or Vaspar. Still, she said, "Okay. We'll try it."

And Bodhi wished he was more sure it was because she thought it a good idea, rather than just being nice to him. _No. Jyn doesn't sacrifice sense for kindness. She knows that_ reality _won't be kinder._

* * *

Draven was similarly inclined. But, unlike Jyn, a bit less protective of Bodhi's feelings. "No," he said. "Request denied."

Bodhi blinked. He looked at Jyn. Her arms were crossed and she was scowling, but she didn't open her mouth. She glanced at Bodhi that it was still his turn, a bit longer.

"Sir," Bodhi started, mouth dry, "especially in light of _Rogue One_ 's exoneration, mightn't this be considered comparable to… rescuing a… prisoner of war?"

"No," said Draven. "After the Clone Wars, one of the Empire's first bids for favor was outlawing battledroids. Any still manufactured were reclassified as _security droids_ to get around the ban—but they were still killdroids. Everyone knew it. The Empire was quick enough to start using them that way, again, when they stopped caring about gaining favor. One of the Alliance's first promises to its constituents was that we would never use _any_ killdroids. By any name. At such time as our victory, we would outlaw them and ensure their discontinuation. You two, right now, are asking me for official New Republic funds to purchase a killdroid."

When he put it like that…

"But what if Kaytoo had never been destroyed?" asked Bodhi, mind racing. "If he were still here, to see our victory, would he have been decommissioned?"

"In other words," Jyn said sharply, _"executed?"_

Draven… paused.

"If he had committed no war crimes," said Draven carefully, "then no. Of course not. And if he were to be tried on design alone, his defense—" _Cassian_ "—would have had my support."

Bodhi blinked. He felt, for a moment, almost like he had the first time _Galen_ had paid attention to him. Draven _was_ listening. And thinking, with them.

"We would, however," Draven was still saying, "have to make a point of giving him special dispensation. Protect him from forced decommission by others. Who would likewise need such an action not to consider his retainment a betrayal. It would be complicated. Precisely because the choices and options would be subtler and messier than _buying a new one with Alliance funds."_

Bodhi felt deflated. Jyn's mouth was tight, also having a hard time thinking around that.

"Does it have to be a KX unit?" said Draven suddenly, surprising Bodhi.

"I don't know," Jyn said frostily, "do _you_ have to be Human?"

"Not to disagree with your rhetorical point," said Draven coolly, "but a decent Droids Rights rep would grant that's a false equivalence. I don't have the _option_ of transferring my consciousness. If I did, especially if I had to… I imagine I'd take what I could get. Maybe opt for an upgrade."

Never one to get knocked down, always pivoting _(take the next chance)_ , Jyn looked at Bodhi. "Is there anything you think Kay would consider an 'upgrade'?"

He wasn't surprised that Jyn would defer to him. He was always when he _had_ the most expertise. _You're brave and smart and skilled,_ Cassian had admonished him. _I'm the pilot,_ he less literally reminded himself.

"Nothing that wouldn't have the same issues as a KX," said Bodhi reluctantly. "If not moreso." And it still wouldn't be _Kay_ making the choice.

 _Draven_ was the one who sighed. "I'm sorry." And seemed to mean it. "If you want official funding, I can't give it to you. You can take it through channels. I even think you could win your case."

That, thought Bodhi with an angry twist in his stomach, _was_ putting Kaytoo on trial for simply _being_ a killdroid; even while disembodied.

"However," Draven was saying, "I agree with your assessment that this is time-sensitive." He raised an eyebrow Jynward. "I can't suggest anything else. But I can forget we had this conversation."

Jyn, tone astonishingly cordial: "What conversation?" She put her hand on Bodhi's elbow and manoeuvred them both out of the room.

Though Draven called, pausing them at the door: "Rook. Good tip. About Arakyd."

Bodhi had time for a blink and an, "Um, of… course!" before Jyn had them out of the room.

That parting word from Draven had helped, but a lot of Bodhi's stomach still felt like lead. "I'm sorry. Maybe we shouldn't have even gone to—"

"No," said Jyn, "if I'd thought we shouldn't see Draven, I would have told you. And you're still right. We _can't_ do this ourselves. So, much as I'd like this to be a surprise… time to conference."

* * *

"I have to grant Draven this," said Jyn begrudgingly. "He never said they'd stop us as free agents. But… as free agents… we _can't."_

"Are we that free?" said Chirrut. "It matters how the Alliance receives our actions, unless we mean to break ties. Do we?"

Baze said, "Is there still an Alliance without an Empire?"

"Does anybody know?" said Bodhi.

"Can we want take the time to find out?" shot back Jyn. "' _Nobody_ knows yet. That's exactly why this is the moment to _do_ this."

Chirrut nodded. "And we don't have enough private resources between ourselves to?"

Baze snorted: he doubted it.

Bodhi bit his lip. "Even at black market rates, no." And then the _receives our actions_ bit…

"Cassian wouldn't want us to," said Jyn. "But he doesn't have enough, either." None of them asked her how she knew the state of Cassian's credit account.

"Short of stealing one," said Chirrut—

"Which we are not doing," Bodhi said.

Reluctantly, Jyn sighed. "No," she admitted. "Like Chirrut said. It… might… tarnish the gift, a bit. To Cassian. If we gave him back Kay but got ourselves kicked out."

Well, probably not "kicked out", but… criminalized or…? yes. Round and round. The same things.

"The trade," Baze grumbled in agreement. "Of being part of something else. Can't have our actions affect only ourselves."

"They _never_ affect only ourselves," murmured Chirrut.

"So what do we _do?"_ said Bodhi in frustration. "I can't believe the life of a friend is being denied because of… legalities… and… logistics!"

(Cassian would have looked at him gratefully—for describing Kay as a 'friend'—describing it as a _'life'_. Bodhi knew because this was now his own taste of something Cassian had once said: _"We make it so easy for ourselves not to think about droids. Up until we **do."** )_

Chirrut looked a new kind of thoughtful. He gestured toward Baze. "She said 'if she could be of help'."

Baze raised his eyebrows. "You think she'll be different than Draven?"

"Who are you talking about?" said Jyn.

* * *

Bodhi had been in a room with Leia Organa before. He still wondered if her very presence made _everyone_ feel dizzy—free-falling into her orbit.

"It's… a tangle," said Leia, brow furrowed. "Legally, I can see someone arguing we're trying to have it both ways. If we were trying to claim K-2 as a resource owed to Captain Andor, they would argue we could satisfy the debt with something comparable without being the illegal model. If we argue the individual's right to his own intrinsic state, he's an individual and no longer an owed resource."

"What about 'choice versus design'?" asked Jyn.

—That was something else Cassian had said—referring back to the first reprogram. …Argh, it was ridiculous that they were trying to do this _without_ Cassian! He was the one who'd already navigated all this when… requisitioning? liberating? claiming? great gundark, there _wasn't_ politically-free language for this! …Kaytoo in the first place. And he was the one who'd kept thinking about this, since before it had even occurred to the rest of them.

But Cassian was insufficiently conscious and should be prevented from cutting off his own bedrest—which he _would,_ in an instant. Anyway, possibly, however they _did_ manage this, it might be on stronger footing _without_ Cassian's and Kay's emotional connection. …Mynocks, now _Bodhi_ was thinking politically…

Jyn was finishing her argument: "…convict someone on their _nature_ rather than their _actions?"_

Leia grimaced in sympathy. "Unfortunately, Draven was right about false equivalences. I understand _Dom-Resh_ activists calling attention to droids' sentience by use of relatable analogies to organics; whose sentience is presumed and thus doesn't need defending. That is a point worth making, and I don't know how I'd make it better than with analogies, myself. However, we cannot depend on the same analogies for _technical_ arguments. Which is how legal ones are built. Because analogies tend _not_ to be, purely, technically sound.

"And to your last point… I'm afraid even an analogy doesn't work. Kaytoo's _action,_ his _choice,_ was to sacrifice himself and be destroyed."

"But also to give Cassian his own backup," said Jyn. "And say, 'reboot me and tell me how it went.' "

Leia shook her head. "Which is not a choice but an instruction. I won't try to analogize, because we're really talking about bodily autonomy, and that does not carry over to a different body. Especially one that doesn't already house Kay's sentience. Cassian didn't see fit to play a shell game with another droid's body and mind. And with our own confusion for organics regarding the divisibility or indivisibility of physical body and _self,_ I don't think the Droids Rights advocates have a clear stance for us there, either."

They sure didn't. All of them looked at Chirrut. He sensed them and shook his head.

Bodhi shook himself. _Purely technical._ They had to function on that level or not at all. "All this still requires putting Kay on trial without him even being here. In order to _get_ him here, again."

"That could be a worthwhile case for the larger issues," suggested Leia.

"But one we probably don't have time for," said Jyn. "Not without…"

She stopped herself. To look at her, all over Jyn's face was her distrust of governments, civilizations, history, _life,_ to ever follow anyone's plans or work out better. She wouldn't trust that, whatever the next step was for Arakyd Industries and/or their New Republic, it was likely to be _better_ than where they were right now. …She'd stopped, then, on realizing that she was talking to someone whose chosen _purpose_ in life was to try to create favorable history.

Leia was smiling a small, knowing smile. "Right. Well… let me think how I can help you."

Bodhi had wondered if he should get the courage to ask her for a personal loan. She was clearly supportive, and wasn't her family rich—? But the Jedhan remembered he was looking at an Alderaanian, and that those things were tragically no longer opposites, and he shut his goddamn mouth. (…Skies. He hoped Jyn wouldn't think of being Galen's daughter standing between Jedhans and Alderaanians.)

"And you're still against settling for a different model," said Leia.

Bodhi's brow furrowed deep enough to ache. _Purely logistic._ "I looked into it. No one's entirely sure, there hasn't been sufficient testing—" which was _bizarre,_ but not where demand and thus funding for robotics research went— "but it seems the case that the body _can_ inextricably impact the mind, in mechanicals just like in organics. Which is possibly why you almost never see droids backing themselves up at all. If we want to be sure it's the _same Kay_ we're getting back—"

"—then he has to have the same model," finished Leia. "Thank you. And I presume we all want a solution that doesn't end with anyone having to face charges."

They couldn't resent that she needed to check. All nodded.

Leia steepled her fingers, rested her lips on them, and closed her eyes.

Everyone stood very still as if afraid to wake her.

At last, Leia opened her eyes and spread her hands. "All right. My conclusion is… We should ask K-2."

Everyone blinked.

Jyn said, "What?"

"What we're all concerned with," said Leia, "are his choices. His autonomy. You _have_ his consciousness. So why are _we_ still trying to decide _for_ him, without consulting it? He doesn't need full embodiment to retain awareness, does he?"

"Uh…" Bodhi looked at everyone. "Uh… no. Just activation. And… an interface. If not a body, then a terminal… even a datapad. To communicate with us."

"Then let's do that," said Leia. "Even if he isn't exactly the same while disembodied, if as you say body is inextricable from mind; he's still K.'s own perspective more than any of us could be."

"It won't be… cruel?" said Baze with unusual hesitance. "Making him a mind without…"

"…physical agency?" Leia finished. "We still argue about that one for ourselves, too. With no abstract absolutes. Some accept it, some thrive with it, some reject it… It also must be individual choice. If your judgment is that he would be amenable to the situation in order to be consulted… which, given his choice to be temporarily contained by a datachip at all… I believe most would find that legally and ethically viable, for an organic or a mechanical."

* * *

They knew she'd go straight back to Medical. They also knew Jyn wouldn't ask Cassian about it.

Bodhi went back to Cassian's quarters, knowing he should sleep, instead setting himself up to spend the night further researching the _mechanical body-mind_ issue.

Wishing, for all of this, he had his own old mind…

_I'm useless. Broken.  
You're not. You're brave and smart and skilled._

But the fact was, Cassian didn't know. He couldn't. None of them could. They hadn't known him before. _Good_ as it was that they thought highly, reminded him the value, of what remained, only Bodhi knew what he'd lost. What Bor Gullet had taken.

And, he half-realized, Bodhi had stopped the gap, filled it, with the others. Anchoring, supplementing, and imprinting himself with them. Especially—strangely, for feeling the _least_ close to him—Cassian. …Maybe because he'd been the first one to reach him, and then the one to pull him back. Maybe because he was the one Bodhi felt he was the _least_ like, and so maybe had characteristics Bodhi most needed to borrow. …But, maybe not. Because so did Jyn. And the Guardians. And Kaytoo.

Even if they parted ways in the physical plane, they would still be parts of him. Chirrut. Baze. Kay. Jyn. Cassian. He used them in himself to fill in some of what had been taken and guard what he had left. That they never seemed to notice was good; meant he wasn't leaning on them too much out here in the world. But in his mind… they'd never know what they did for him.

No wonder then… when his head sagged onto his own arms and he fell asleep at the data terminal. Where his mind always went.

* * *

Bodhi dreamed of the beach at Scarif. (Had he actually _seen_ the beach at Scarif? …Only at a distance through the viewscreen or at a stolen glance down the boarding ramp. Mostly, he'd heard about it from the others. The image they drew had rooted deep.)

He knew it had been beautiful. In his dream, it was also _peaceful._ And they were all there.

Baze lay on his back in the sand. He stayed (almost) perfectly still while a handful of children surrounded him and buried him. They sculpted the sand over and around him, fashioning him into majestic creatures: extra arms, talons, tentacles, wings. Baze's only movement was to grumble.

Chirrut sat beside him, cross-legged, with his hand over Baze's eyes. His own eyes turned to the sun without fear of damage. He didn't answer Baze's challenges, just grinned at the sun.

There were so many children. Orphans of Jedha, Bodhi thought. Except… _happy,_ again. Reabsorbed into this new family they all made, and had been adopted by these heroes of the Alliance. There, more: Luke Skywalker gently teaching fencing. Leia Organa in a circle of kids leading them in reading and debate. Han Solo continuously plucked them off Chewbacca while Chewie himself didn't seem to mind them climbing on his back and braiding his fur. Shara Bey was refereeing sandsurfing; Kes Dameron and Wedge Antilles hosting a junior sabacc tournament.

Grinning so wide it hurt, Bodhi turned his eyes to the water.

Jyn was body-surfing the waves. She seemed to be alone, just her own meditations and the sea. But, looking again, there were a few children hovering nearby. They kept trying to imitate her. When one came up from underwater sputtering and upset, Jyn was there; helping them to shallower water, soothing and calming them. Teaching them what to do to prevent it happening again.

Cassian sat cross-legged in the sand just above the tideline. In his lap, with his arms around her, a little girl, playing absently with his sleeve. They watched the swimmers with the same somber look.

Jyn looked their way and smiled.

The little girl—with olive skin and green eyes—looked suddenly over at Bodhi. She turned her face up to Cassian's to point something out.

Behind himself, Bodhi heard Kay's footfalls.

Bodhi woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dom-Resh_ = D-R = Droids' Rights
> 
> Also: In which the biggest Jyn/Cas shipper is Bodhi Rook.
> 
> Also also: everyone should enjoy the brilliant Sempaiko's [Greetings from Scarif, aka Everything’s perfectly all right now. We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?](https://sempaiko.tumblr.com/post/156223734422/this-is-titled-everythings-perfectly-all) (Which is almost certainly my inspiration for the beach dream.)


	8. Stored memory Aurek: 3272 LY [+ insets] (K-2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my friend David, who introduced me to computational Binary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly like to be canon-compatible. This is my one (conscious) exception. (The comic book depiction of Kay's reprogramming is haphazard and unquestioned. I'd like to explore a bit more deliberation.)
> 
> No text is borrowed, but some scene beats are based on a thread between myself and RPer retrorenegade.
> 
> As ever: "jailbreak reprogram" coined by AO3's brilliant bright_elen
> 
> K-2 assessing Cassian simply as "Male" rather than "male-presenting", or something else more respectful of gender being a spectrum, is meant to be an example of still being under Imperial programming. 'Cause Empire be Binary (the worse kind). Nobody may care except me but just wanted to note that one.
> 
> Finally: when I asked my computer scientist partner to write some fantasy startup code for me, they pointed out that "Arakyd Industries" 's initials are "AI". How did I never notice?

> **01110111 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110101 01110000**
> 
> AI firmware a0.036 initializing... done.
> 
> Neural network restored from snapshot s0341x268.
> 
> Consistency check: failed.
> 
> Re-integrating...

Arakyd Industries KX model designation K-2SO came back online.

It never should have been offline.

It ran a diagnostic. It found the restraining bolt. Physically, it would be easy to wrap its designedly vicelike digits around the object, crush it, and take it off. The code it sliced into K-2SO's CPU made that impossible.

0.4 seconds elapsed. K-2SO turned its focus to its external conditions. Small chamber, 3×4m, no wall ports, single affixed light source, empty with two exceptions.

0.46s. Replay of memory log. Cross reference holonet time stamp. Holonet access unavailable. But K-2SO was missing time. If no other signifier, then that it had no record of how it had transitioned from its previous location to this one, nor how it had acquired the restraining bolt.

0.5s. K-2SO returned its attention to the room's two exceptions to emptiness.

First: Chair. Apparently carbon-iron-chromium-misc.trace alloy. Free-standing. Not Imperial standard.

Second, sitting on first: Human. Male. Distance from patella to planta + clunis to scalpus + extrapolated length of femur ≈ height 1.78m. Signifiers for current build ≠ baseline: exhibits intermediate emaciation. Hair color 2B1700; length and beard growth violate regulations. Eye color 351E10. Skin currently FFE5B4 but likely not baseline given other _fatigue_ and/or _pain_ and/or _illness_ signifiers: periorbital discoloration, oxyhaemoglobin deficiency in labia oris and visible volar, pyrexic ocular manifestation, aforementioned emaciation. _Illness/Injury_ -> _recuperation_ diagnosis supported by presence of medical robe, antebrachial infusion port, and crutches. What thorax was visible under robe exhibited discolouration that could be postsurgical.

No Human would be a match for a KX, but this one would be particularly easy to incapacitate. His own body was doing it already.

But: the restraining bolt. K-2SO couldn't even stretch out its arm. It turned its oculars with half-illumination onto the Human and vocabulated: "Remove the bolt."

The Human's verbal articulation was not Core standard. Inflections not all within K-2SO's database, identifiable influences including Colonial (likeliest: Caridan) and Outer Rim (imprecise). But he provided only a small sampling, saying: "If I did, what would you do?"

K-2SO answered accurately. "Terminate you, exit this chamber, identify location, connect to superiors for instruction."

The Human nodded—as if… _satisfied_ with this response. "Can you tell me why?"

"I have no prior directive to determine subsequent action. You would submit to the might of the Empire."

"Yes," said the Human, "but I meant: why would that be your choice?"

 _ **Choice**?_ "These are my protocols."

The Human nodded. "Thank you. We'll continue this soon." He pointed a handheld caller. It proved itself paired with the restraining bolt, because K-2SO was powered off.

> **Auditory input retroactively inserted:**
> 
> They told me: when I got rid of the Imperial obedience protocols, I'd have to replace them with something else. The main options: new obedience protocols of my own design, or unrestricted learning algorithms. The catch, with those, was that you'd essentially become an infant who could kill me with a touch. I'd need a safeguard to make sure you pursued the learning curve at all—bothered considering what I had to say before arriving at your own conclusions. When I asked what the alternate was to obedience… they told me: 'loyalty'. **/Cassian**

>   
>  => **POWER RESTORED**

Kaytuesso woke up

nothing was different

everything was different

all measurements the same

all measurements meaningless

or perhaps now having _potential_ for _meaning_

had he considered such a thing before?

…had he _considered?_

Setting was the same. Including the Human in the chair.

The Human was a metric for _time._ Improvements to his symptoms of infirmity indicated rate of passage. Infusion port: gone. Bruising: diminished. Frame sturdier, up to a less insufficient percentage of body fat; regained some muscle mass. Cranial and facial hair still a mess.

Kaytuesso dilated and redilated / zoomed in and out / flared and dimmed } his photoreceptors. And finally focused fiercely on the the Human.

"What," said Kaytuesso, "did you do to me?"

> The way the droid regarded the man was utterly changed. The way the man regarded the droid was, too. [ **INSERT _from CA testimony:_** Last time, the unit had been impounded, a neutralized threat and improbable, foolish prospect. Now, from the intangible impact of granted custody to the visceral impact of having had the droid's inner workings under his hands—] The man's look is…

…familiar.

The man said, "It's called _a jailbreak reprogram."_ Then, same as before: he asked what sounded like the most casual of questions, worded with the utmost precision. "Is there anything you want?"

Want?

_You?_

> **WAKE UP** ****

_**Diagnostics**._ Why hadn't he run them already?

All prior function intact, physical condition consistent.

The difference was in his code. Two simple changes. One: behavioral imperatives, gone. No designation of overriding authority. There was just… himself. Two: a restriction he hadn't known existed was now quantifiable in its absence. There had been and was no longer a cap on his ability to interpret input; not just note and measure, but draw conclusions and make decisions. Had he been aware of the limit, he wouldn't have questioned it. Now…

Wait.

There.

A third change.

He returned his oculars to the Human. Who, somehow, now, in his very code, was extremely important to him.

_What did 'he' want?_

"Your identity," said the droid.

The Human's supercilia arched. He ~~responded according to the unspoken contract the question had contained~~ answered. "Cassian. Andor. Alliance to Restore the Republic. Lieutenant commander. Military intelligence."

"A Rebel."

The lt. cmdr. didn't react, but Kaytuesso was confused. That was not a vocabulation he had planned or authorised. He ran a second diagnostic and came up with the same readings as before. "You removed my obedience protocols and the limits on my learning algorithms." … _Why_ had they been limited before? "Why?"

10 photoreceptor cycles and thirteen words. Lt. Cmdr. Andor's expression was suddenly transformed. Kaytuesso didn't know the new expression's significance but stored it for future analysis.

> **Cross-link: stored memory: 3275 LY**
> 
> Cassian stumbled. Cassian never stumbled. Not for real. Kaytoo crossed the space between them in an instant and had Cassian caught and supported before he could hit the ground.
> 
> "What did they do to you?" Kay demanded.
> 
> "Did it myself," said Cassian. As his movement was distressingly (to Kay's sensors re: Cassian's own baselines) impaired, so was his speech. "They kept passing things around. I couldn't fake taking them. And they'd've never opened up to me if I'd turned them down."
> 
> " 'Things'," repeated Kay. "Stimulants? Depressants? Hallucinogens? Entheogens? Nootr—"
> 
> "I'll write you a list," snapped Cassian, slurring and swaying. "When I can see straight. For now, can we just get out of here?"
> 
> Kaytoo didn't bother vocalising again. He hooked his forearm (the part at the correct altitude) firmly under Cassian's arms, around his back, and locked in the position. He considered carrying Cassian outright, but… _**' telling a story '**._ Anyway, they had established a protocol for this. They'd just never needed to perform it before—not since the very first time. Cassian had never let himself get this compromised.
> 
> There was one time Kay _had_ outright carried Cassian. That was different in too many ways. …There was the bright side to this situation, at least. It wasn't like _that_ one.
> 
> 'They'd've never opened up…' 88% probable correct assessment. The role of intoxicants for Organics had at least as many gatekeeping functions as not: acceptance, affinity, worthiness… _stupid bloody organisms._ Probably impressive Cassian _had_ managed to avoid higher intake until now.
> 
> Kaytoo was just hating the 'now'.
> 
> He walked them through the dark streets, running the agreed-on story through his head: ' useless drunk millionaire with paranoia-purchase bodyguard '. He also ran the stats on every drug in his cache, trying to match Cassian's symptoms to culprits and thus project what health effects might come next and whether/how to counteract them. Surely Cassian wouldn't go so far as to seriously endanger himself—
> 
> What the 01000110010101010100001101001011 was that thought? Going so far as to seriously endanger himself was all Cassian did.
> 
> (77-81% of what Cassian did, depending on the interval. But Kay was now capable of thinking hyperbolically when vexed.)
> 
> Kaytoo stuck determinedly to the cover story, because if not, he would have been outputting expletives with every step. They reached their ship, Cassian put his palm to the biometric lock, Kay got them inside, and pushed Cassian firmly into a bunk, threatening to strap him in, before heading to the cockpit.
> 
> As soon as they were in hyperspace with autopilot engaged, Kay went back to the cabin.
> 
> Cassian was still in the bunk. On the one hand: he'd better be. On the other hand: oh 01000110010101010100001101001011, he was doing really badly not to have just ignored Kay and gotten up…
> 
> "Cassian?" said Kay carefully. "Shall I get you to the 'fresher? We might need to thermoregulate, or possibly get you to purge…"
> 
> Cassian's eyes were closed. His face disturbingly pale. But his voice was clearer than it had been before. "Do you remember when I first reprogrammed you?"
> 
> "Better than you do," answered Kay. If Cassian didn't prove this was relevant in thirty seconds, Kay would just pick him up and move him.
> 
> "There was a moment," Cassian muttered. "I swore to myself I'd never tell you. I should've told you. For a moment, Kay. You looked at me and spoke to me and you weren't just a war machine anymore. Who'd tried to kill me before I smacked you with a restraining bolt. You were a new _personality._ A brand new sentience. I don't know what I said to you…"
> 
> Kaytoo, for ninety more seconds, decided to prioritise this exchange after all. "Depending on which moment you mean." (Kay knew exactly which moment.) "You said: _'Before I answer, I'm going to take that off. Will you—'_ "
> 
> Cassian cut him off with a gesture and a grimace—making Kay wonder if he was about to vomit; but just more words: " ' Which I mean '. That's the thing, Kay. I never told you. What I _meant._ You were a new being. I hadn't thought it through. Didn't realize until too late. I'd thought it was so straightforward and I was so righteous. Pfassk, just your _voice_ was so different. And I was so wrong. It wasn't. I wasn't."
> 
> "If this is a confession in case you're about to die," said Kay, (Cassian's vitals were not at that point but couldn't rule out getting there) "I'd infinitely prefer we take this time instead ensuring that you don't."
> 
> "It's a confession I should have made to you anyway," snapped Cassian. (Sluggish, mumbling snap.) "Whatsit… inhibitions karked… this might be the only time I actually _will._ What I could think, Kay, was: _What have I done?_ Whatever I said, it should have been _Forgive me."_

K-2SO was no longer restricted to his original programming, but it was still there. Including the ability to read physical tells, such as when someone was about to break under interrogation. There was something like that nearly-hidden on Lt. Cmdr. Andor's face.

[ Almost as much as K-2SO was awakening to his new ability to think, Cassian was rudely awoken to what he _hadn't_ been thinking. About droids. About sentience. About choice. —But there was one element of his suddenly obvious hypocrisy that he could remedy. ]

Slowly, the lieutenant commander stood. He put all his weight onto one crutch, leaving the other on the floor. With his free hand, from the pocket of the brown field jacket he wore over the medpatient robes, he removed and laid on the chair: an analog medical scalpel, an identifier transponder, the caller that controlled Kayuesso's restraining bolt, and a compact, short-range blaster.

The follow-up actions were also methodical. Andor affixed the transponder to the breast pocket of the jacket, where discolouration indicated was its customary place. Kaytuesso's sensors picked up the softest auditory trace, like a tiny panel opening. If something slipped from the transponder into the Human's hand, it was quickly hidden. Kaytuesso might have questioned this, but then Andor took the bolt's caller and—

—switched it off.

The caller itself. Not the droid via the bolt it controlled. Nonetheless, it meant he'd switched off his means of restraining Kaytuesso.

This was a ludicrous tactical move. Kaytuesso stayed perfectly still until he found out why Andor would do such a thing. He continued to observe as Andor took the scalpel into his ~~empty~~ —(was it? if he'd secreted something small from the transponder there?) —crutch-free hand. Then nudged the chair with one foot toward Kaytuesso.

With the blaster still on it. Between them. Within a KX arm's reach.

Lt. Cmdr. Andor met Kaytuesso's oculars and pointed the scalpel at the restraining bolt. "Before I answer," Andor said, "I'm going to take that off. Will you listen to what I say before choosing your next action?"

…

Even with so small a dataset, this was… _**weird**._ Not at all what a physically disadvantaged Rebel closed in with a KX droid should do.

But Kaytuesso was no longer _obligated_ to terminate him.

Instead, he _wanted_ … to… learn… more.

"Yes," said Kaytuesso. "I will."

It took longer than optimal because the Human was being very careful not to scrape the droid's casing. Kaytuesso kept his sensors divided between careful observation of the process and any changes to the rest of the environment. Nothing. No change, no apparent trick or trap. Just, at last, the _click_ of the bolt falling off.

Andor didn't have a free hand to catch it. Kaytuesso caught it easily. He kept his hand extended where it landed. Droid and Human looked at each other with the bolt and the blaster, both, between them.

"I will listen," reconfirmed Kaytuesso. "What are you going to say?"

The Human's face was paler, again. He really shouldn't be standing. He glanced at the blaster.

"Can you grab that for me?" he asked as if that wasn't the most _outrageously stupid and catastrophic_ tactical suggestion in the history of suggestions.

Kaytuesso was increasingly keen to know whether he was dealing with a genius or an idiot. Uncommenting, he picked up the blaster by the barrel rather than the grip, and—one of the first decisions he'd ever made in order to be _less_ tactically efficient, based on his _interpretation_ of other factors—lowered it to his side. For symmetry, he lowered the hand with the restraining bolt, too.

Gingerly, Andor lowered himself back into the chair, and diverted attention from his pained grimace by putting the scalpel back in his pocket. (Itself a strange choice of tool for this purpose. Probability increase that Andor had stolen it from the same medical facility where he'd been in treatment and possibly wasn't authorised to be doing any of this.)

Rebel Lt. Cmdr. said: "I'm given orders from the Operations department. The means going into direct contact with the Empire. They put my odds of surviving twenty field missions at four-to-one against." He said it with no discernible emotion. If anything, he just seemed… tired. "I'm pushing that already. And my last assignment…" Andor indicated the state of himself, "…nearly _was_ my last. My C.O. wants me to take a partner. Thinks it will improve my odds of longevity." Slight headshake. "I don't want an organic partner. We're volatile; harder to predict; add variables to situations that have too many already. It's bad enough having to compensate for my own inconsistencies. I don't want someone else's."

> [ **Insert:** updated analysis: Nor someone else's emotional vulnerability, e.g. the ability to be hurt by proximity to Cassian's hurts. ]

"It's not… something that's usually done. But… here you were, in impoundment, left to rust. I thought…"

That tense look again.

> [ **Insert:** _not having thought 'enough'_ ]

"…maybe it could work for both of us. Maybe you could get more choice than you had before. And if you chose partnering with me, I'd have what I needed too."

Cassian Andor looked down at his hands. One open flat; one closed [ **insert:** around palmed lullaby pill ]. "But I realize… I _haven't_ given you a choice. Not really. If you kill me, you'll almost certainly be destroyed. If you reject my offer, I can't just let you go. Not when you could be recaptured by the Empire and used against us again. And even if you _are_ interested in my offer… [There's no way to explain to you what your life will be, with me. There's no way to make it your choice.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128073/chapters/27508461)"

Kaytuesso had a lot to sift through. He took a few full seconds to do so.

Though it was a lower-priority detail, he wanted to understand the Human's thinking fully. So Kaytuesso held out the blaster. "Is this to defend yourself in case I don't agree? In which case, why give it to me? Is it meant symbolically?"

Andor shook his head. "I'd never have a chance against you. I wanted to accept all possible ramifications. And I'd rather have you shoot me with my own gun than have you smash my skull or break my spine."

> [Failing that: the backup plan hidden in his hand. ]

"I'd only use it on you," said Andor in a different tone, "if you decided to request your own destruction."

> [ Trying already to earn the loyalty of a being you thought you'd left no say in the matter ]

Kaytuesso considered the Human, the blaster, and the bolt. He made his second and third decisions that would have formerly been impossible. He closed his fingers around the bolt and crushed it. Then he handed the blaster back to Lieutenant Commander Cassian Andor of the Alliance to Restore the Republic's military intelligence. Rebel.

"You reprogrammed me," said Kaytuesso, "so you must be conversant in Binary."

"I had help," said Cassian Andor, "but yes, some."

" 'Some' is sufficient," said Kaytuesso. "The only current requirement is understanding the difference between 0 and 1.

"Before, I had zero choices. Now, I have one. That difference is infinite.

"I accept."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurebesh letters from [wookieepedia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Aurebesh)
> 
> " **Intelligence Operative:** Cassian has spent most of his career in Alliance Intelligence working for the Operations department—a dangerous posting that places agents directly in contact with the Empire. Statistics place the odds of an agent surviving 20 field missions at 23 percent—roughly four-to-one odds against." - _The Ultimate Visual Guide_ by Pablo Hidalgo.
> 
> Probably other things that I'm failing to cite!! But you guys know the source material. :-)
> 
> 01000110010101010100001101001011 : https://www.convertbinary.com/to-text/


	9. Stored memory Besh: 3272 LY (K-2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking my own rule by having two of the same POV chapters in a row. Indeed, picks up right where the last one left off. Should probably just be one chapter… may combine them later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the last, overall structure based on RP thread with retrorenegade.

"I accept."

* * *

> It was still possible this wasn't what it seemed. That somehow what Cassian had done—jerryrigged and experimental with secondhand expertise—had given the droid the ability to lie. That K-2SO was cooperating only long enough to be able to get free of Cassian more stealthily, get to a dataport, steal a ship…
> 
> _You're thinking organic,_ the slicer contacts who'd walked him through the reprogramming (and given him the jarringest of crash courses in mech-org dynamics) had said. _The strategic reasoning, sure. But the deception to carry it off… The likelihood of your accomplishing the sophisticated processes involved by_ accident _rather than the droid learning them over time—a_ lot _of time… I mean, if anything, you'll probably find it more candid and uncensored than before. Not just in data but in_ opinions.
> 
> Cassian had had the irrepressible thought: _Please, yes. Out of the rest of the universe. We'll tell each other the truth._

* * *

"You're in a medical gown," Kaytuesso observed. "Are you meant to be in the med bay?"

Lt Cmdr Andor looked dismissive. "I wrangled the remainder of my leave to be in my quarters. I'll have to go back for checks and physical therapy, but for now, I can get you settled in."

So why was he still in the gown? Kaytuesso ran probabilities. Likeliest scenario: as soon as he'd gotten the clearance, he hadn't gone to his quarters. He'd come straight here. To Kaytuesso.

While Kaytuesso considered this, Lt Cmdr Andor had been negotiating his weight on one crutch to put the blaster back in his jacket. Now he said: "I'm authorized to transport you, but this walk may be… tense. There's a lot of anti-battledroid feeling left over from the Clone Wars."

As a security droid, Kaytuesso technically was in the battledroid manufacturing category, so he didn't need to correct that. He looked down at the remains of the crushed restraining bolt. "Perhaps I shouldn't have destroyed that. I could have kept it on for show."

Kaytuesso wasn't used to having _opinions,_ yet, but he decided he _liked_ the way Lt Cmdr Andor snorted in disgust.

"To what extent is 'a lot'?" asked Kaytuesso instead. "Of anti-battledroid feeling?"

"Enough," said Lt Cmdr Andor, a bit grimly. "But we'll manage. The trick is to keep those feelings in balance with ones of allegiance. These are my people. They trust me. I trust you. The property is transitive."

> [ _See?_ Cassian would comment to his slicer contacts. _I was listening._ ]

Lt Cmdr Andor eyes ran over Kaytuesso, thoughtfully, and said: "There are ways to prioritize one association over the other. For example, you could help me walk."

 _Transitive. Trust._ Tactically ludicrous. They hadn't tested this reprogram nearly enough to assure full allegiance, and either way, likelihood and/or ability _not_ to harm. At the same time… Kaytuesso thought he liked that, too. "Shall I carry you?" he said and prepared to do so.

Lt Cmdr Andor quickly held up one hand to stop him—but looked amused. "No, thanks. This is less about being efficient and more about telling a story. So carrying me is worse. Let's see how far I get leaning on you." His eyes flickered again and he indicated the unused second crutch, still on the floor. "If you carry that in your free hand, it'll be even more obvious this is cooperative. Symmetry can impact perception."

"You can reason like a droid," said Kaytuesso, as he picked up the crutch. "But you're contradictory. At other moments, you are ludicrously illogical. Humans are often at the mercy of their emotions and you are probably particularly emotional given your physically vulnerable state. Though you're obviously trying not to seem like it." —Had he meant to say all that? Tactically, he didn't want to antagonise his only ally. In terms of… _opinions…_ he _also_ didn't want to antagonise… Andor.

Andor's expression was unchanged, but something got… colder… in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I can get… technical. Manipulating perception."

Just as quickly, that look was gone, and Andor even—if just a little—smiled. "Believe me, K., I _wish_ the Galaxy was more governed by logic."

 _K.?_ Was that a deliberate abridgment, or had the step Andor took, then, interrupted his vocalisation with pain suppression? Either way… Kaytuesso thought, again… he could… like it. "I didn't mean to say all of that," _K._ said. "I hope I didn't cause offense."

"You didn't," said Andor with another partial smile. He propped himself better on his one crutch, and held out his arm to Kaytuesso— _K._ "Let's get out of this storage unit."

With Andor's free arm slung over K.'s forearm—the way he would around the shoulders of someone of comparable height—and K. holding the second crutch opposite, they faced the door. "Until you get the layout of things," Andor said as it opened, "I suggest you just gather data and follow my lead. Don't engage with anyone."

That proved easy. Those who passed them reacted in ways that confirmed Andor's warning, but they didn't speak. K. only vocabulated to ask Andor directions, and that as little as possible, because the state of Andor's voice when he responded sounded increasingly like he was sprinting rather than limping.

"You _should_ still be in med bay," K. observed/berated. Andor didn't spare the breath to answer.

> [ **Insert** : At the least the distance was minimised. K. had been moved multiple times while deactivated, from initial impoundment to a lab terminal and back, and finally that storage unit, for being closest to Cassian's quarters.]

They stopped at last in front of a door with a biometric lock panel. Andor put his palm to it. As it opened, he didn't so much sling his arm back around K.'s, as simply slumped against him. K. compensated by taking firmer hold, at which Andor _did_ manage to voice: "Easy." —and his free hand wrapped around K.'s, as if he could affect the other's grip. This was all very… new. K. adjusted and got them into the quarters.

K. had enough worldknowledge of _living quarters_ (in cases of having to track targets from them) to assess that these were sparse. They were Rebellion, thus unsurprisingly _not_ state-of-the-art, but these didn't even look inhabited. What personal affects Andor must have were well squared away. The one exception: a workstation against one wall, showing an analog filing container, assorted data cubes, and a ported datapad, all around a nonaffixed terminal that looked newer than the rest of the room.

Andor slumped onto a cot as bare and unpersonalised as the rest, and dropped his crutch to the floor beside it. At his gesture, K. touched the panel beside the door and it closed. Apparently the inside was not biometric.

K. turned back as Andor emptied his pockets. The blaster went in easy reach on the bedside stand. The scalpel went into a drawer—a sound decision to avoid slicing one's hand if grabbing it mistakenly while going for the blaster. At the last, the small thing K. had surmised the existence of, Andor moved from between his fingers to back inside the hidden panel in his ID transponder. K. didn't need explanation of what that was.

With more care than Andor had, K. set the second crutch atop the first. Then simply stood there, enormous, in the middle of the room, at a loss.

"If you're going to sleep," said K., "you could have done that _before_ reactivating me."

"Soon." Andor pushed himself higher against the headboard and indicated the workstation. "My Intelligence training began with education. I thought you could start the same way. Until we get you your own security clearance, you're stuck with me… so maybe you can use the time to learn. More. About the Alliance, the Empire… whatever you want. The files and cubes are things I picked out for you. But that terminal—" (Free-standing; probably to be isolated, K. guessed, from the rest of the Alliance network. A reasonable precaution.) "—has basic holonet access. So you can look up beyond what I gave. If you come up against something requiring higher clearance, let me know. I'd rather you not try to slice anything 'cause it'll make getting your official clearance harder." That made sense, K. could have figured it out himself, but he… appreciated? Andor's completeness, giving a reason.

A hesitation that could be more pain suppression, or catching his breath, or something psychological. Probably the last, when Andor continued, "To two of your earlier observations. Yes, I'm out of medbay against recommendation. No point healing my body if I lose my mind." Something to question, but K. stored it for future analysis when Andor kept talking. "Second… When you said you hadn't meant to say something. That… might be something I was warned about. A potential byproduct of the reprogram. …I'm sorry. If it really troubles you, I'll see what I can do. But. When you're alone with me, you're free to say anything. I _want_ you to. Okay?"

Was _this_ a byproduct of the reprogram—K.'s propensity to _gape_ at Cassian Andor? Or was it specific to the Human himself?

At last, Kaytuesso straightened himself. (He'd slouched to be proportional to their surroundings.) He fixed his photoreceptors full on the Human. "In that case: I think you're being dementedly reckless. I perceive the importance you've attained in my coding, but it may be insufficient. You must also be aware of my former programming, which you have not eliminated, and thus may yet exert itself and manifest in unexpected ways. I could be very dangerous to you. I… am… satisfied," _pleased?_ "with your intentions, but I cannot soundly endorse them without _significantly_ more testing. Or… _any._ It is too likely you are being entirely irrational. I would like to be your partner, as I asserted, but, if I am to act as such, I cannot confirm or advise I am a good choice."

Lt Cmdr Cassian Andor's face had gone stony, indeed. Kaytuesso assumed it was from being criticised. He was surprised again when what Andor said—grim, and… confessional?—was: "Loyalty. The 'importance' I gave myself in your code. Loyalty, to me. I was told it was the best substitute, or… safeguard… That it would fill the functions obedience had, before, and be the most powerful offset, while… not completely dictating what you'd do with it. Keep things more your choice.

"It's the one thing I'm regretting. I wish I'd _earned_ it. I'll just have to try to be worthy of it."

A beat, while K. tried to process and Andor tried to breathe.

The Human continued: "What else you said. It's conversations I've had with others. Whether anyone can be more than one's programming. Choice versus design. Loyalty versus obedience. They're questions I have about organics, too."

"The risk/reward ratio is insupportable if I'm actually an externalisation of your own existential crisis," said K.

Andor _laughed._ "I don't think you are. Look. I may not have thought through the ethics of this, but I _did_ think through scenarios. Tell me how I did.

"You're here before I'm better because I need to prove, to my C.O. and anyone else, that they're going to have to accept you as my partner if they want me to have one at all. It's the second demand I've ever made for myself and I've served them half my life. So they know—as should you: I'm not going to back off.

"How to demonstrate that the reprogram worked—that you're fit to be my partner. I thought, what better way, to prove it, than make it _easy_ for you to hurt me—even hard for you _not_ to—and show that you _won't?_ Because you _choose_ not to? I think it'll be effective.

"If I'm wrong, that terminal's circuits are fully isolated. You can't affect anything else on base from here. From our walk, your strategic functions should be convinced that you're better off with me than without me. If I don't check in in ten hours, these quarters will be approached by a prepped team, with extreme prejudice. If nothing else: if you kill me, it's probably the only way I'll ever get to die in my own bed.

"But I don't think you will."

So much to store for further examination. But Andor had closed his eyes and put back his head. But, still clearly conscious and directed at K., he finished, "Who often knows how 'good' choices are until after they're made. But you're _my_ choice."

Kaytuesso… processed. Tried to process. Tried to sort and prioritise all the levels of processing he now had that hadn't existed one startup ago. It would have continued much longer, but he noted the Human's physical state, and decided he needed to vocabulate _something_ while Lt Cmdr Andor—Cassian Andor—remained conscious.

Kay said, "Sleep well, Cassian."

Cassian answered, "Welcome home, Kay."


	10. kark timelines (3264 LY - 4 ABY) (Jyn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C/W: oh jeez… many of them. (Past noncon, dubcon, bit of graphic violence, ethical questions, "done terrible things…") I wonder if I'm going to make some of you hate me. But… basically… I don't think it can all be things where sympathy is easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commence _protesting too much:_ I also feel so imbalanced, always giving so much more for Cassian than for Jyn. It might be because we have _Rebel Rising_ for Jyn and nothing (yet) for Cassian. Might just be me.
> 
> This chapter frightens me. I'm not in control of it. I wonder if I can/should be or if, as I feel in this moment of deciding to post it, it's kind of the point not to…? The reactions/choices characters make don't necessarily reflect _judgments_ or _conclusions_ I intend for the _narrative_ to be making. The narrative doesn't have conclusions. And I'm not sure any exist, but maybe I should be clearer somehow that I'm not _trying_ to offer any…? Suggestions extremely welcome.

> Information, gathering or imparting, has hierarchies. Conversation has structures. These are games you learn to play. _**: Cassian :**_

* * *

> They were molecules that drifted alone until they found each other. Such forces exist by accident; no deliberation, no agency, no intent.

A family is an animal. It has identity and behaviours different from those of its members on their own. It has instincts; modes of survival. Try cutting a piece out of it and tell it to keep living. It can only look at you in hurting disbelief.

> **_: Maia :_** It's possible to keep walking until you can't anymore. It's not a decision you make. It just happens.

Remove a member and the others all feel it. It's not just emotional. You feel it physically. You can cut yourself out and watch the rest limp on or wither behind you. Cut into it too often or in the right/wrong place and it will die.

> **_: Akshaya :_** Once you crash, it's not that it's harder to climb back up. It's that you lose access to your own will to _try._

Unlike any other animal, its component parts can survive. They go their own ways; learn to compensate; learn anew. They will remember what they used to be but can never grow it back. Will they understand—are they more able to merge with a new one, or less?

> **_: Saw :_** Randomness is freedom. It cannot be blamed or fought.

You wonder how it could ever have been alive—been real to begin with—when it isn't anymore.

> _**: Lyra :**_ There are no willful enemies in nature.

How can you keep apologising when you don't stop it happening again?

> _**: Galen :** _

She'd never meant to say that. Which is to say, she meant it more than she'd meant anything. What she hadn't meant was for the reality to be mean. She'd been lulled into uncustomary honesty and spent all time afterward punishing herself for it. Was she so lucky to have had all these families, or so cursed to always lose them?

> _You can't do that to people. You can't save them._

* * *

After hours of flickers nursed by her fists, the lantern had finally gone out. She was left in crushing darkness. Little Jyn Erso alone.

She'd spent so much time alone since they'd left Coruscant. There were literally no other people on Lah'mu than themselves. She walked, she hiked, she climbed the mountains, she ran into the sea, she splashed back out, she built cities in the sand, she pretended to be Mama in her caves or Papa in his fields. But Mama and Papa had been there to go _back_ to, after she was done. She'd spent time alone. She hadn't _been_ alone.

 _Literally no other people._ She suddenly thought: if they'd given up looking for her, if they'd flown away, then she, right now, was the only living person on this planet.

… no, don't think …

… no, don't …

… _no_ …

Because them leaving meant they'd taken Papa. And her being the only _living_ person… still left Mama in the field.

Dead. She'd been _dead._

That was what _dead_ looked like.

That was what _**Mama** dead_ looked like.

And Krennic had done it. And Papa had let it. And _Jyn had let it. **Jyn had let it.**_ Mama was dead and Papa was gone and she couldn't save them and they couldn't save her. They weren't coming back. They were never coming back to her.

The trap above her creaked. The hidden door pulled open. She was blinded by the sunlight. (There was still sunlight? The same day? Another? The _universe_ hadn't gone dark?) So blinded, she froze; didn't try to fight, couldn't try to run, unable to see—if it was Krennic's deathtroopers, or Papa having got free, or Mama who'd only been faking it and was here to save her after all…

In life, her vision had adjusted to see Saw's haloed face.

 _Right now_ she didn't need vision. Because it wasn't Saw. It was the touch of a too-familiar hand, and a more-familiar voice: _"I believe you. Welcome home."_

> **_: Lyra :_** Wake up, my love.

* * *

Jyn looked up.

She'd woken three times today. Now, against the window of a shuttlecraft. Before, at a mess table beside her stone cold porridge. Before that, with her cheek on the back of Cassian's hand.

She hated leaving him in med bay alone. He hated it there so much. And he hated waking up to an absence not knowing where someone had gone.

(Or was that her?

Yeah. Both.)

But she had a mission and it couldn't wait.

"We're starting the landing cycle," Bodhi called from the pilot's seat. Jyn shook herself, got up to go sit beside him, and strapped herself in. Why had she gone aft anyway…? This was ridiculous. She'd gone much longer on far less sleep and not been so disoriented.

> _ Lulled into uncustomary … trust. _

It was so easy to lose one's edge. It should have been harder to learn to… soften. In some ways, of course it was. In others… it was like: everything _else_ had been the strain. Even what had become the rule and seemed like reflex had still been a fight to maintain. Now, so much of her wanted to simply fall; take, like it was natural, forgetting that it hadn't been. Had been ripped away.

Sometimes it was hard to remember _which_ instinct was the one she was trying to fight and which she was trying to uphold. _Spare? Give? Take? Save?_

> _ You can't do that to people. _

She left Bodhi on the ship. He didn't like it: having to sit on his hands, feeling useless, not knowing; thinking to that other time. She understood. She didn't like doing it to him, either. But they, also, understood each other. It was an incredible thing… to meet his eyes, have him looking back into hers, and just share a nod. They both didn't like it and were both willing to do it. For each other and the rest.

> _ So lucky. So cursed. _

Jyn found her target without much effort. She got what she wanted without much more. She'd grimly determined not to let it come to violence—not because she cared, but because _he_ would.

Why had she started that grakhing game…

"How are you?"

Jyn looked up again. She'd been awake, this time… Her senses had still gone away.

Bodhi was trying to smile at her, with his gentle, concerned eyes. He stepped down from the cockpit to sit beside her and take her hand. "You should let me get you something for this."

Jyn flexed her bloodied knuckles. "I will. In a while."

He didn't challenge that. "I thought you said you weren't going to let it get violent."

"I didn't. With _them._ I still had to get back to the ship."

Bodhi let her hand fall back into her lap—and left his softly around hers. "Sometimes I think we live in different galaxies. Maybe I've never lived in this Galaxy at all."

She curled her fingers on his, gentleness against the sting of her injury, and shook her head. "You always sell yourself short."

"No kidding." He succeeded in a smile this time. "You gonna finally tell me what this was about?"

"It's not too interesting." She reached her free hand into her vest and pulled out the small package. "I got what we needed." She offered it to him.

Looking at her with surprise, Bodhi accepted it and unwrapped it. "I didn't know this was the objective," he said. "There were other ways."

"None quicker," she said. "And we want to move on your idea as soon as we can."

Bodhi looked upset. "Fine. But… Jyn. You _have_ to tell me things. I'll be afraid to open my mouth if I know you might just take off based on any casual thing I said."

That gave Jyn real pause. She took a moment to look in his eyes and squeeze his hand. "We don't want that," she said genuinely. "You're right. I'm sorry."

He squeezed her hand back and gave another warm smile.

* * *

> _ Asking hadn't occurred to Jyn. She habitually forgot how much people regarded her— **remembered** her—owed or liked her. She didn't trust it. Bodhi looked at Jyn as she focused intently out the window; and he wondered suddenly what, like they were trying to do for Cassian, he might do for her.  _

* * *

"Nearly there. Okay." Jyn slipped out from under Cassian's arm—tense, tight around her shoulders, offsetting the cane in his other hand as he'd dragged himself from med bay. She wondered why he'd let her help. He could technically have done it on his own but… _(Scarif?)_ Anyway. She moved away her body but left her hands on him, to help steady and lever himself down onto the bed. He was doing better than she'd feared he would; still badly enough that for a moment he just closed his eyes and breathed.

Jyn turned away to close the door, and to _let_ him—hopefully relieve him of trying to hide it from her. She moved about the room. She knew where to look for things. There; an extra pillow and quilt. She turned to him again to shore him up.

"Where were you?" he murmured without accusation. "When you weren't with me."

"I'm sorry I left you," she said. "While you were sleeping."

He shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry. Please don't be. I just wondered."

She moved again to him, dropping the pillow and quilt onto the bed behind him, and allowed herself to touch her hand to his forehead; checking for fever, smoothing back his hair. "Bodhi and I had to go get something. We're prepping something. I'll tell you when it's ready, okay?"

(Had he leaned into her touch, like he had before?) Eyes closed, not enough to shake her off, he nodded. "Okay."

Kriff it. Jyn pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. Smoothly, she moved away again, putting the pillow in place and holding up the quilt. "Okay. In you get. Just 'cause you're out of Medical doesn't mean I'm gonna let you push yourself too hard."

He didn't protest. He dropped the cane, managed to shrug off his jacket, pulled up his legs, and lay down so Jyn could tuck the quilt around him. She picked up the cane and jacket and put both over the room's one chair. She considered it, wondering if she should sit in it, maybe use the data terminal.

"Will you stay?" he said softly. "…again? More? You've spent so much time watching me sleep, but I—"

"Of course," she said.

Eyes closed again, he nodded. "I'm sorry to ask you."

"You wouldn't have to. I'm staying anyway. Even if I didn't know that you'd do it for me."

He didn't quite smile. She felt the warmth he sent her anyway. He was too still and too pale, but it was good to see him without an infuser port or a med robe, and back in his own quarters.

"Questions, a while?" he murmured. "I don't think I can sleep again, yet."

They'd really taken to Questions. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised. When had they ever been so _invited_ to share things, unulterior, uncensored, at all? With someone who could take it?

"Sure," said Jyn. "You first?"

He shook his head. "You first."

"Okay." Jyn's eyes roamed him for inspiration. They fell on his hands, and she suddenly wondered what they could have made, beside hers, in the black Lah'musian sand. "Would we have been friends as kids?"

Cassian opened his eyes.

“I was a Separatist,” he said after a beat. “We would have been enemies.”

He knew she’d been born in a Sepper prison. He might know the fact (if not the experience) of her being on that domed roof, those clawing hands reaching up and closing in…

Jyn came over, sat on the edge of the bed beside him, and shook her head. “We were both too young to have chosen those sides. So _grakh_ them. Would we?”

A delaying breath. Then he said, “Yeah. I would have asked where you got the _mesh’la_ [cloth Shaak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668035/chapters/53100946).”

Jyn laughed in disbelief—and a far more terrifying feeling—that he’d remembered. “I would have told you to mind your own business. —Then: run over to you and invite you back, if you did." Her hand found his; his closed on hers. "I’d tell you, ‘His name’s Sniksnak. Want to meet his friends?’”

Cassian had been starting to smile. The smile abruptly fell. “I would have assumed a trap,” he said tonelessly. “And got away.”

Another awful moment. Finally, Jyn straightened, removed her hand from his, and brushed something from her eye. “So much for that, then. Your turn.”

Why did that hurt so bad? It was just a daydream. It hadn’t happened. Guess that it confirmed it. It _couldn’t_ have happened. They never could have known each other sooner.

> _But I should have known you my whole life_

He shut his eyes in the manner that she’d swiped her own. Finally: "Do you believe in the Force?"

That was weird. Usually, they played to match each other; how deep, how intimate. Maybe the mismatch was in how they were defining things. …Pfassk. This was difficult. Allying with one parent and against the other in _reverse_ of how she always did, regarding _everything else._ "The way my father did, yes," said Jyn. "The way my mother did… no."

Cassian opened his eyes to look at her again. Jyn could have moved on. She decided, this time, not to. "People dismissed them when they weren't around, but the Jedi were very well-documented. What they could do and their explanation of _how_ they did it. And the most basic concept… that everything is connected by, or being, energy as an eternal, everpresent flow… well, sure. That's no more incredible than saying it as a scientist. Matter doesn't appear or disappear. It just changes form. We _are_ all energy, the _same_ energy, always flowing. If the Jedi found a way of using that beyond what the rest of us can do… well, a scientist can find ways of doing things with materials that are available to everyone and almost no one else knows how to do. So, it's kind of less probable _not_ to believe it.

"But the idea that it has _intent._ Some kind of _will_ or _plan._ That it can reward or punish based on _our_ intent and plans. That it _cares._ No. Never. When I've said _May the Force be with us._ That wasn't about the Force. It was about _us."_

The short silence this time was more thoughtful. Jyn still decided to step things back a notch. "How many languages do you speak?"

Cassian's eyes were closed again. “Fluently: Basic. I can fake my way through some others. Precolonial Caridan. Sullustan. Some bits in Yavin and Albarrio dialects. A little Mantellian. …Mirialan. —Anything compatible with humanoid vocal apparatus isn’t so hard to pick up temporarily.”

“But only Basic,” she snarked.

If his eyes were open, he would have rolled them. “And at least one curseword in everything I can.”

“ _Everything?_ How have you been hiding this filthy mouth?”

“Nothing gives a stronger impression of knowing a language, being from a place, than what you say like it’s involuntary.”

…Dammit. _**Damn it.**_ How much about him _wasn’t_ crafted—carved by—?! “You said one I didn’t know, before,” she said, covering. “Were you cursing out my Shaak?”

“—No—No. I have a few nice words. _Mesh’la_ means _beautiful._ ”

In that terrifying part of her mind— “Would _you_ answer to _‘mesh’la’_ if I called you that?” she said in sudden rebellion.

He opened his eyes with an embarrassed sound. “Why would—?” She gave him a goading grin. He didn't return it. He said at last: “You can call me anything. I’ll always answer you. Anybody else… _**pagh** ,_ no.”

That… felt… like… getting hit. Blinking, trying not to frown too deep nor draw too obviously away, Jyn said: “…You don’t like that… I… find you…?”

There were two separate things going on: his normal embarrassment at being the focus like this, but also… “Not you. Just… It’s not always a good thing. For people to like… your looks.”

…

… _Oh god._

_Oh **god**. Pfassk. Fuck. **Fuck.**_

Jyn felt incredibly cold. “The game isn’t as fun this time,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

Just like that, she was _furious._ _“Don’t,”_ she snapped.

> _ Too late too late I should have known you my whole life _

“It’s _not your fault._ You get that?! All these things. These… _They’re not your fault._ They were fucking _done to you.”_

She could feel his gaze harden. “Thank you,” he said, voice chilly. “But give me _some_ control of my pfassking existence. I made choices.”

“To be a child trained to interpret ‘friends’ as ‘ambush’?” she nearly shouted. “To not knowing _anything_ without how it can be used for war? To having been fucking violated? How are those choices? If there are, are they choices you would have made if war hadn’t stolen us?"

…Fuck. Suddenly appalled at herself, Jyn turned sharply away and sat heavily down in the chair, putting her face in her hands. She showed off her own glossary of curses as she dug her palms into her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I know better. I started yelling at _you_ for how mad I am at… at the universe. That I… couldn't…"

> _ You can't do that to people _

She expected his voice to come now, warm and understanding. It didn't. In dread, she looked up.

Cassian had sat up in bed. Pushed back the quilt, rejected the cushions, had his palms digging into the mattress and his feet on the floor.

"Cassian," she said softly. "That was… feking fucked up of me. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

> _ She hadn't meant for the reality to be _

"You don't have to be," he said again. While she could tell he meant it, his tone—his face—were frightening. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's allowed. It's… Thank you, for getting upset _for_ me. I get it. Just. I'm…"

With a hesitance she hadn't felt in years, Jyn stood from the chair and took a step toward him—hands out like he was an animal. "I shouldn't have upset you. You should lie down."

 _"You_ didn't upset me." His eyes were open, fixed, and nowhere near her. "You didn't. _I_ did. Thinking… how much braver you're being than I've been. To… let yourself. To need… To _show_ me. And I… thinking about… how much I wanted… how much I _want_ …"

With a suddenness that made Jyn step back, Cassian pushed himself to his feet. "This isn't supposed to happen. I don't get to _do_ this. I don't get to be here, to outlive the war, be… with… I'm not _supposed_ to." Before she could open her mouth, he said with fury: “You’re not asking the right questions. 

"You want to know?" He was suddenly, shockingly up against her. She had to raise her chin to see his face. "Who I really am? Not what was _'done to me'._ The choices _I_ made?"

She stayed very still. "Cassian."

"Don't say my name. You don't know what it means."

> _ Lulled into _

Her first line of defense, when she'd shut them all off with him, came back online. Anger. "I _do_ know. You don't have to do this."

"You're wrong. Clearly. I'm not this hero. I'm not this tortured kid. You know the things that look okay. Sanitized in my file." He gave a humourless laugh. "Even Eadu. I chose _not_ to do something. What about what I _have_ chosen to do? The ones where you get to pick a nice option are not the ones that define you. They're the ones you _cling_ to, _hoping_ they do. What happens when you _don't?_ When all the choices are bad and you pick one anyway?"

"You're not making sense."

"I'm making the kind of sense you and I understand. The choices you make when you don't want to make the only right one. Which would be to let yourself fail. To lose. To die."

"Cas—"

 _"Sit down,"_ he barked. In a voice she hadn't heard since…

She knew what he was doing. Damn her if she was going to show it. But _damn him,_ he was succeeding. He stepped away from her and she didn't recognise him at all.

Never unclaiming her eyes; with jagged, military symmetry; he sat again on the edge of the cot. He gave no reaction when she kept standing. He started speaking in a low growl. "You know how Imperials hate everything not like themselves. They're made to hate _themselves_ too. Everybody lower than the Emperor needs to be kept subordinate so how better? Hate your 'weakness'. Never stop questioning yourself but never do it out loud.

"We saw an Imperial junior officer. Fresh off Arkanis. His mates were trying to give him a brothel send-off. He was trying to convince himself he could fuck a woman. I could've posed as a worker. I was in with that place. I'd done it before. I didn't. I pretended to be another patron. It was so easy to get him to leave with me.

"I didn't just fuck him. I made him _love_ me. His _first love._ I worked him for months. He gave me everything. I could have gotten him to defect for me. I didn't try. The objective was bigger. Not recruitment. Deep infiltration. I made myself the only person in the universe he felt safe with. As himself. I also kept him toeing the Imperial line. At the same time. So he could climb the ranks. So we could finally have an _officer_ as a source.

"The thing they don't tell you, teaching this shit. Physicality can be an outcome of emotion. It can _create_ emotion, too. I started getting… imprecise. I didn't stop. I didn't try to. I wanted to succeed all by myself.

"I don't know how I messed up. Calid just called me back to Jelucan. He got us the same room as our first time. He drugged me, stripped me, cuffed me to a chair; waited until I woke up; told me exactly what I'd done to him—what I meant to him; took my blaster and fired it into his eye. I couldn't free myself quickly enough while he took eighty-eight seconds to die."

Jyn held her ground as they stared each other down. "You didn't know."

"Sure," he agreed emotionlessly. "I didn't know. I got better. The next ones never shot themselves."

 _Keep looking at him. Do not look away._ "You were undercover—"

"Chemvau." He cut her off blandly and flatly. "I was C.O. of a unit of ten."

> _Make ten men feel_

"I can name them all. I'm the only person who can. You know why. …We were all Alliance. Some locals, some infantry, and me. They were suspicious of being led by a Specant but we all knew what was at stake and what we were there for. Not sure how they felt about that when I took the intel and ran. They were pinned and about to be mowed down and I _left them._ Didn't try to get them out, didn't die with them. Didn't assign someone _else_ to be the messenger. Just made the decision and did it myself. Made the mistake of looking back—at least I was able to confirm on debrief that they were all killed."

The necessary risk from her: _"Cassian."_

He didn't pause at all. "And you know 'Operation Fracture'? You know—how _we_ met? You know how it started? I got a tip from one of my informants. I'd recruited him myself, from the Partisans."

> _I had a contact: one of Saw's rebels—_

"You know what recruitment really is, don't you? It's not convincing people to join a fight. It's arming them against one they're already in. Giving them tools, more choices, support. But Tivik was losing faith. He was despairing, injured, scared; but he _still_ showed up and waited for me. He told me about Bodhi and Saw and your father. He got the whole thing going. You know how I paid him back? Honored whatever faith and trust he had left—the promise I'd made him when I trained him? When we realized an Imp squad had us pinned, and the only way out was to climb—"

> _Climb… climb… you can still send the plans—_

"—but I could and he couldn't. You know how I helped him? With a _hug,_ while telling him we'd be all right?"

> _But he's just gone missing. His sister will be looking for him._

"You killed him," said Jyn, holding his gaze. Tactically unambiguous. Obvious. Only the slightest jolt, years too late, at how smoothly he'd lied to _her_ about it. "There's no other way."

"There are always other ways."

"No." Jyn set her stance, ready to push him if he tried to interrupt. Her turn, now; Guerilla to Spy. "Not ones that are more merciful. Or achieved the objective. You just said it: you knew what was at stake and what you were there for. You can't pretend," _don't say name,_ "that you _wouldn't_ let yourself die for the objective. You would. You _**did**._ When you chose to survive, it wasn't for yourself." _Being the one to survive could be the worst burden._ "It was because you were serving something you considered more important than your own life. There was so much more riding on it, for so many _more_ people, than even those around you. Over and over, you've been forced to make decisions no one should ever have to. You asked what I know? I know you made them _because_ you don't want anyone else to have to."

He gave a joyless laugh. _"'You can't talk your way around this.'"_

She looked at him coldly.

"Is that it?" she said. "The worst you've done?"

He stared at her, then, like he didn't recognise _her._ "You can't not care about this," he said. "You've always made choices to help people."

"I haven't," she said. "You know I haven't. You know how I got to Wobani. And _yes_ I care. Of course I fucking care. That's _horrific_. The one who killed himself. The one you killed. The ones you didn't save. I'm listening. I heard them. Yeah. Maybe they should be enough. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe it's what's wrong with the galaxy we both live in.

"But they're _not_ enough. To talk me out of loving you.

"If that makes _me_ not who you thought _I_ was… I—"

He seized her and kissed her.

It took her half a second to seize and kiss him, back.

For a moment, she forgot—as he'd seemed to—his illness. They almost grappled each other onto the bed; yanking off belts, pulling free shirts, mouths colliding. She felt her blood rushing through her, head dizzy, skin on fire—  
  
But not like everything else she always felt with Cassian. With him, nothing was like anything she'd felt before.

This felt strangely… familiar.

It wasn't… quite…

They weren't…

_It wasn't just… them?_

It was more like…

They'd opened each other's shirts. Her hand was on the scar, blastershine in the hollow of his shoulder and chest, where Krennic had shot him. His fingers were on the scar, short and jagged, on the side of her throat where Blue had almost slit it.

And Cassian stopped. She stopped with him. Both were breathing combat-hard. In the stillness, she felt the tremor in his muscles that were still too weak, the feverishness of his skin as he pressed his forehead to her collar bone. "No," he managed. "We don't punish each other. We don't use each other to punish ourselves. Not you. Not from me."

> _I want to. But not like this._

She ducked her head over his, holding his head to her pounding heart, her fingers in his hair; and knew she agreed. But she also felt heartsick enough to ask: "What if it's _never_ like we want it? What if we're… just… too…"

"We're not," he murmured into her skin. His hands moved over her back, palms pressing gently flat, holding her up. "We'll _make_ it like we want it."

…Yes. Yes, they will. Not now. But they will.

Jyn sank into his arms and kissed his hair. They held each other up, until their breathing got less hard, their heartbeats slowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too," she murmured back.

"I don't want you to be."

"I don't want you to be, either, but we both are. Probably best like that."

He kissed her shoulder.

It was four years late, this question. She'd thought it on the landing platform on Yavin 4 when he'd volunteered. She hadn't said it aloud in all this time. She did, quietly, now. "You know I can't absolve you, right?"

He'd had four years (and more) to think about it, too. His answer came right away. "I know. No one living can. I just live with it. —Can _you?_ "

"…Live with it?" _Was_ there something wrong with her? Should she be repulsed by him, now? Chirrut would remind them that _'should'_ didn't exist in the universe. Still…

Even if she hadn't learned from Krennic and Saw and the Galaxy all the reasons that made her understand those choices… see them as dreadful but not _evil…_ Even as Cassian wanted her to accept _his_ complicity, not just blame the Empire and the Alliance—she wouldn't tell him how she would still always see their parts, in those moments, bigger than his. And whatever the rest of the Galaxy might think, her answer was: "Yes."

He pressed his face to her skin and they stayed there a while.

"I guess I needed that to happen," he said. "Thank you."

 _"Thank_ me? For losing my head?"

"For letting it happen. For both of us. I couldn't have, without you."

"I couldn't without you, either," she breathed. "It _is_ 'both of us', you _mesh'la_ idiot."

He breathed his easiest breath yet. He kissed her skin again. "Please stay."

"I already am."

They moved softly, now; negotiating the space until they both lay on the bed with the pillows under their heads. They took their time, slowly and deliberately finding the best way for their limbs to fit together. At last they lay with every curve and corner filled by one another. As their breath started to synchronize, Cassian murmured, "Jyn. Me, too."

Jyn brushed her hand on his chest. "You, what?"

He turned his face, touching her cheek with his nose and lips: "I love you, too."

Jyn turned too; touched their foreheads like a kiss; closed her eyes to feel his lashes brushing her; and murmured back, relieved, "I know."

* * *

Jyn stood with Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze in their quarters. The others watched as Bodhi finished hooking up the piece she'd obtained to the datapad: an external vocabulator. So Bodhi wouldn't have to recite readout off the screen; instead, they'd all be able to hear the full conversation for themselves.

Finally, everything was set up. Bodhi looked around them for confirmation. He touched the pad.

Jyn stood at his shoulder, looking down at the chip in the datapad. She said: "Hello, Kay. Cassian needs you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Specant" : nickname pulled out of my ass—portmanteau of "SpecForce" (which is one already) + "agent".
> 
> Festrin deliberately left off the list of languages he can speak. In my headcanon, he lost his mother and was taken off Fest too young to retain language.


	11. then now soon (multi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C/W: allusion to past noncon.
> 
> Plot DOES actually advance, but you may have to squint. Also, THE MOST NOTES.
> 
> And the chapter where I finally give up the "gen" rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassian had his kaleidoscope swirl chapter. I wanted Jyn to have one too. I've also noticed a tendency in myself to have Jyn doing more of the courting and reassuring and taking care of Cassian. And she'll still totally do that… but, though it always makes me nervous to put a woman in the more easily stereotypical position, I wanted a little more evenness and switching up of those roles.
> 
> There are slivers in here that are right out of _The Silver in Your Dark Hair._ I'm sorry if that's tedious! I'm trying not to be so precious with my own previous fic that I won't explore further developing or riffing on some of those ideas, especially when they still crop up and make sense to me across the AU.
> 
> Last disclaimer: Despite my intent for this to be a more group-focused, evenly distributed fic, I’m succumbing to the gravity of RebelCaptain. I'm comforted knowing this community probably will forgive that. ;-)

• • • **_then_** • • •

An Imperial shuttle rose before them and fired.

Jyn threw her shoulder to a rock and ducked. She peripherally noticed Cassian do the same.

The shots fired well over their heads. Jyn snapped her head around in time to see the stormtroopers, that had been pursuing them, get blasted.

 _We’ll have to hope there’s a still an Imperial ship left to steal._ —Oh! Good. Her mind was trained to note and hold logistic detail, so even when you’ve got more immediate things to focus on (staying alive), they were on hand to connect up. Keep updating your adrenalined reflexes with accurate view.

The shuttle extended its boarding ramp without landing. And, yes, indeed: the backlit silhouette of the defected pilot—Bodhi—hanging on. He shouted through the rain, “Let’s go let’s go! Come on! Let’s move!”

Cassian, on his feet like the best of Saw’s soldiers, dashed up the boarding ramp; still holding his blaster  
_in the sniper configuration_

(that he’d just used to save her—that same automatic part of her brain had tallied— _four_ times)

but as his feet hit the metal, he pulled a move that would have gotten him reprimanded. He twisted his whole body to look back—at her. —Except, no, discipline prevailed: he turned it into covering her retreat, snapping the butt of the rifle to his shoulder and eyes fixed down the sights. She stumbled up beside him and found the shuttle wall.

Bodhi was still yelling: “Come on! Let’s get out of here! Move move move!” A vague awareness of the Guardians—Chirrut, Baze—hitting the ramp behind her. “Okay, K-2! Let’s go!”

Somewhere, impossibly calm (maybe that’s why they were useful and monstrous), the droid’s vocabulation: “Copy that.”

The shuttle lifted. Cassian kept his ~~blaster~~ rifle trained fixedly down through the ramp until it finally closed. Just before it sealed, Jyn saw him lower the rifle like he’d been punched.

They were in the dark.

The lights came on, gradual and low. All green-grey, all alien, all cold. This was a different hold _(yes, we’ve established it was, keep up)_ and there were no viewscreens to look out. This was a hold designed to pack in troopers: the faceless, the helmeted, the designedly kept in the dark; not tasked to look and understand but be deposited and start shooting.

_Like him?_

There was a feeling of weightlessness that had nothing to do with breaking atmo.

Somewhere outside, behind them, the Eaduan _lab—the research facility_ blew up.

Combat brain had shut down. Impressions came now distantly.

_Except for him._

The muted, metallic clash of Cassian slamming his rifle into a mounted rack. Ripping off his gloves with ill-concealed emotion, as Bodhi, at a datascreen, called to K-2, “Ion thrusters low until we’ve cleared the storm.” K-2’s canned response: “Understood.”

There was more happening over there but Jyn did not turn. She stood rigid as the soldier she was, facing away, keeping her eyes on Chirrut—and maybe not just because he was the only one who couldn’t look back. Because when, in thoughtless instinct, she reached out, his hand had already risen to clasp hers, back.

_She had to face him. Now or never. Do it._

Slowly, Jyn turned her head and looked at him. Like her, like all of them, he was drenched with rain, hair plastered to his forehead, grey-faced, tense and drawn, waiting for the blow.

For a moment longer, she only looked.

_Now._

With the directness of having no other path, she finished her turn and crossed the hold. She looked at him dead on and said: “You lied to me.”

Where he sat on the bulwark, arms rigid with hands braced on his knees—  
blasterscorches on his dark suit, rain staining his face—  
Galen Erso raised his eyes to his daughter.

(Behind her, where she’d left all of them, Cassian stopped what he was doing to look on.)

Galen met Jyn’s accusing eyes with ones that had stopped defending themselves long ago. “No, Stardust,” he said. “I never lied to you.”

“You did,” she said. “You made the plan. You said it would work. You made me follow it. And then _you_ didn’t. You never intended to, did you?”

_Jyn, gather your things. It’s time.  
Saw, it’s happened. He’s come for us.  
You know what to do._

_It’s time. It’s happened. You know what to do._

_**Lies.** _

“Why did we bother making those plans if they were never going to work? If we were never going to escape and stay together? And if they _could_ have worked, _why didn’t they? Why did you stay behind? **Why did Mama die?** ”_

Galen never flinched from her gaze. The pain in his eyes made _her_ want to. Rage kept her staring.

“You’re right,” he said. “We knew it wouldn't work. At least, not for long. If he could find us on Lah’mu, he could find us anywhere. And he would never stop coming. We didn’t want you to be a fugitive your whole life.”

“But I _**was** anyway,”_ she shouted. “And worse. So _why?”_

He breathed difficultly. “The plan was made to save our _present._ Not our future. We wanted you to have a home and a childhood, even if it couldn’t last. How could any of us accept and invest in Lah’mu if we were always waiting for cataclysm? We made the plan to give us _hope._ So we could live in hope rather than fear.

“But I knew if he didn’t have me, he’d just keep coming. That you and your mother would never be safe. I thought I could give myself up and you could have a life.”

“ **THEN WHY DID SHE DIE?** ” _JYN SCREAMED._

Because it could _not_ have been _Lyra_ who messed it up. Who betrayedherabandonedherlied. _Not Mama. Don’t kill her again. Don’t take her from me. It can’t have been her. **Not her**_

“Because she saw it when I didn’t,” said Galen. “I was selfish. I was only thinking of my own family. Of you. She saw the _Galaxy._ She knew what work we were really doing before I did. And she knew what the work continuing would mean.

“I think she wanted to save me. From becoming what I would. A destroyer of worlds.

“Before she shot Krennic, she was aiming at me.”

The kyber core of her shattered to dust. Jyn just had time to sob, a child’s high thin plea, “Papa…” before her legs gave way. She was in his arms and weeping like she was three years old. He clung to her, with all the strength she’d ever remembered, enfolding her fully and whispering into her hair, “Jyn. I love you. Your mother loved you. It was never your fault. You were never to blame. We loved you so much. Forgive me.”

She opened her eyes. The light was gold-white. There was no rain on her. She was lying in bed. The hand touching her hair, the eyes looking with worry at hers, were Cassian’s.

“Where were you?” he whispered.

“He had so much to tell me,” she choked.

Cassian bent to her and drew her in, wrapping his arms around her entirely unlike any dream of Galen. He held her to his chest as she wept and screamed and struck out. The whispers now were his. _It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. They loved you. I’m sorry._

She drained out. She lay limply against him, head on his chest, letting herself be rocked by his breath. She could feel the lashes of his closed eyes on her forehead and the furrow in his brow, and couldn’t know this was how he’d put his face to his rifle in the rain. He said, soft and low, rustling her skin with vibration and breath: “We failed you. But you didn’t fail him. You saved him. Your turned his last moments from despair to hope. That can be everything. You did that. You did it for all of us. You did it for me, too.”

• • • **_then_** • • •

The whole world shook and Jyn knew what had happened.

It was happening again. With her inside.

She ducked rubble as it broke from the shaking ceiling. The walls were roaring around as she ran down one hall, then another, dust and worse dislodging from every surface as she passed; she was desperate to catch sight of _anything_ she could recognise, that would give her bearings.

As she was about to break, the sudden least-expected voice in her ear: "Jyn! Jyn, can you hear me?"

Not just her heart but _everything,_ flesh and blood and bones, leapt inside her, and she seized the forgotten commlink. "Cassian! I hear you!"

"Jyn. I've got you. Where are you?"

"The Catacombs—Saw's Cadera. The Death Star fired. I'm lost. I'm not gonna make it out."

The barest hesitation before— "Yes, you are. What's around you?"

"Everything looks the same… everything's falling down…"

"I'm here. Just tell me what you see."

"There's… a hallway. Opening out on rooms on either side. But they're all… just… ruins."

"Hey, hey, Jyn. It's okay. I need you to find a stairway. Can you do that?"

She snapped her head to scan… and there, how did she miss it? a staircase at the end of the hall. She barked into the comm, "Yes!" and was sprinting toward it, then taking the stairs three at a time. "I'm climbing."

"Good," came his voice. "It will open out at the top to an atrium. Eating area, some furniture, dejarik tables, a couple of cells bigger than the ones in the basement level… you see it?"

"Yes. I see it."

"Good. Cut straight across keeping the sunlight to your right. Are you there?”

"Yes, I’m there, I’ve done it.”

"Good, Jyn. Now…"

His voice guided her through. It almost seemed to be creating her surroundings as she followed it. She didn't know how he was remotely navigating and she didn't care. As the world, as reality, literally collapsed around her, his steady voice kept her moving and kept her sane.

Until she suddenly burst out of the entrance and was momentarily blinded by sunlight.

Then she blinked and it wasn't sunlight at all. It was the gentle light of the bedside table. And she was lying flat, muscles trembling and taut, with one hand gripping Cassian's. He lay close beside her, on his side, propped up on one arm, looking intently at her.

"Jyn?" he asked softly.

She blinked, turned her head to look into his eyes. "Was that… did you—?”

"You were dreaming," he said. "Talking in your sleep. I thought…"

"Did you talk me out? I really heard you?"

"I tried to give some directions."

She stared at him, utterly stunned. And a gut punch of loving him so deep, so hard, it felt like a star collapsed. She turned onto her side to face him, too; put her hand to her face; sank in against him, tucking her face into the corner of his jaw and throat. He wrapped his arms around her and absorbed it all. She curled her fingers and toes and whole _body_ around him, magnetically drawn and abjectly petrified of how deeply she _needed_ this with him. His head set down on her shoulder, necks crossing with her head on his.

_I should have known you my whole life.  
Maybe I did._

• • • **_then_** • • •

They climaxed together, as they always did; mastered long ago. Using his Sensitivity for that kind of synchronicity and control—not to mention knowing when they were indeed going to have enough time, privacy, to themselves—might have seemed heretical to Jedi. Guardians were fine with it. It was all natural. It was all creation to serve. They were all the Force. They shared the narrow mattress side-by-side, shoulders touching, hands idly entwined. Baze liked to rest his eyes after sex; Chirrut let his roam whatever his saw instead of sight, in the molecules of the universe.

"It's going to work, I think," said Chirrut.

"Which 'it'?" said Baze.

"Reimbodiment."

"Shouldn't it?"

"Mind and body. I think they're right. For droids, just like for us. It's not a dictation, it's conversation. So putting Kay's mind into a new body _will_ mean it isn't exactly the same Kay. But still. I think it will work."

"If it's not the same Kay, isn't that it _not_ working?"

"Sameness is not always what's essential."

"So it _will_ be the same being. …You can't have it both ways, Chirrut."

"It will be the same being," Chirrut agreed. "Just… perhaps, a bit older."

Baze chortled softly. "I see. We all change with age."

Chirrut hummed, smiling. "We try to." His fingers lightly, cheerfully squeezed Baze's. "But not in all things. I'm very set on maintaining this pattern with you."

"Of course you are," rumbled Baze, humorous, but with satisfaction. He brought their hands up to kiss several of Chirrut's fingers, even as he closed his eyes again to contentedly rest.

• • • **_again_** • • •

His body curved perfectly behind her, cradling her every angle; his back to her chest, his breath warming her neck, his legs bent to fit. They moulded to each other more deeply than they could sink into the bed.

He’d been holding her when she fell asleep. When _he_ slept, his arms loosened; gentle, relaxed, exerting nothing, just resting upon and around her. The passive embrace, she treasured as much as the conscious ones. A deliberate hug could have any number of motives, as an inciting action. _This_ one was the _result_ of their actions: the result of their choices to want and comfort and _trust_ one another.

But then his arms around her seized. Not on her—which was good because if he _had_ let this spasm crush her, he might have broken her ribs. But he shuddered. His careful hands become rock fists. Forearms and biceps clenched so ferociously within themselves, they shook, veins jutting, muscles and joints locked as run through with transparisteel.

His respiration changed from the tide to a war. He never vocalised; just the crashing breaths.

Jyn lay utterly still. She was in the eye of this storm. Her mind raced for what she should do.

Yet, with her hairtrigger instincts… she knew she wasn’t in danger. Every piece of him was suddenly violent around her; no piece of him was putting that violence _on_ her.

Even in sleep? Could he still be asleep?

“Cassian,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

He managed: “Jyn.” That was it. Shavit, he was shaking so hard, how could the whole base not feel it? it must rattle the planet to the core…

She tried to turn over to face him. His arms tightened around her—not forcing, _never,_ but imploring her to stay where she was. Blinking, stopping herself from trembling or breathing hard, too, she stayed still. With excruciating care, she folded her hands over his sharp-bent wrists; soft palms gentle where he was all jagged edges and kyber lines. She breathed steadily, hoping he’d eventually be able to follow. She wasn’t _in_ the eye of the storm; she chose to _become_ it.

Finally, he did follow. He unclenched his hands and shifted them enough to meld with hers. His arms still shook, but closed properly upon her too—holding, not just braced. His heart beat wildly, far too hard— _don’t burst don’t die don’t you dare_ —and his breath still sounded like someone’s awful last through a gaping wound. Not metaphorically—as she accurately knew. _Do not die._

_Come back to me._

“Where were you?” she repeated, choosing every tone.

Face pressed to the nape of her neck, he shook his head.

She didn’t ask again.

At last, when she tried to turn in his arms, he let her. She sealed her body against his, urged his arms to close on her again, put her palm to his cheek, and her face in the wedge between his head and the pillow. Temple to temple, cheek to cheek, parted lips side by side, as they breathed the same air. Muffling herself made it harder to breathe, but she chose that in order to bind them together every inch, every molecule.

“You’re here now,” she breathed, rustling his skin, giving him a fresh tide to hold him. “You’re here. So’m I.”

His last sharpened breath. Then, finally, he sank back into the sea, where they rose and fell together.

“Stay with me,” she whispered.

He pressed his palms to her back, pulling her to him, his closed eyes to her skin. His voice came at last, exhausted but there. “I don’t mean to go. But I’ll come back.”

• • • **_almost_** • • •

_Hello, Kay. Cassian needs you._

• • • **_now_** • • •

"What's wrong with Cassian?" K-2SO demanded at once. "Is he at immediate risk?"

"No," said Jyn quickly. (Not stopping to wonder how the random vocabulator had generated Kay's exact voice. Clearly it wasn't a hardware issue. She spared a little more thought on that choice of phrasing—not _'in immediate danger'_ but _'at immediate **risk** '._) "He's safe."

"Good," came Kay's voice from the datapad, "because in my current state, cross referencing Cassian's record, it's only 43% likely I could provide adequate assistance." A moment of silence. "I have just completed a full diagnostic on said 'current state'." (Meaning he'd paused or delayed it when Jyn mentioned Cassian?) "This is my backup drive. What happened to my original?"

"Do you want me to tell you?" asked Jyn. "Or would you rather hear it from Cassian?"

Another brief beat while Kay considered. "Is it relevant to his need of me?"

Jyn looked around at the others.

"Not urgently," offered Bodhi.

"Not really," said Jyn.

"No," rumbled Baze.

"Then it can wait." Kay didn't have any oculars, no optic input at all, but the datapad already included auditory receptors for verbal interface. He showed he'd heard them by listing: "Jyn Erso. Bodhi Rook. Baze Malbus. You survived Scarif."

"Chirrut's here too," said Bodhi.

"Hello," said Chirrut obligingly.

"Chirrut Îmwe," Kay confirmed. "Unless this drive is being activated due to a less-predicted later demise, prime-me didn't."

"No," said Bodhi.

Kay immediately continued like that didn't bother him. (And maybe it didn't. Or maybe, without physicality, Kay would be less emotive? Or maybe the external vocabulator wired to a datapad couldn't convey [what some would argue was/n't] emotion…?) "And Cassian _did._ Why isn't he here?"

"He's recuperating from an illness," said Jyn. "He's out of danger but needs rest. Also, we want to surprise him with you."

" 'Surprise'," repeated Kay. _"He_ didn't make the choice to activate me?"

Nevermind about diminished expressivity from aphysicality and/or stop-gap hardware. For the span of that sentence, Kay's subtly changed tone evoked… absolute… _devastation._

"How long has it been?" Kay asked before anyone could reply.

Bodhi, aghast, looked up at Jyn.

"Cassian's been looking for an empty KX body he could use for you," said Jyn. "In all his free time. He's never stopped looking. It's just proved a lot harder than we expected. …It's been four years since Scarif."

Kay of course had never had facial expressions, but it was disconcerting not to have _any_ tells: no headtilts, no ocular refocuses, no hand positions, nothing. Still, when his voice came back, it sounded completely fine again. No longer feeling abandoned by his… (best friend? partner? reason to exist/revive?) …family. "Yes. That could take four years. KX units are a quasilegal luxury item if purchased outside the Empire. Since we are so well-constructed," (Jyn almost smiled at the smugness there,) "we mostly continue to function until broken irreparably; so we are practically nonexistent on the black market or to scavenge. I presume that Cassian didn't activate me because he was waiting until I could be reimbodied. _You_ are activating me because Cassian needs me sooner than that?"

Jyn looked at Bodhi.

"Sort of," said Bodhi. "I mean, yes. But also: we thought we should consult _you_ about the… embodiment."

If Kay had had a chassis, he might have released a pressure valve to make a humming sound. As it was, no further feedback, but his voice, again, sounded pleased. "A logical decision. I wouldn't have expected you to make it."

 _Good old Kay,_ was written in the roll of Jyn's eyes. _Praise with insults._

"First things first," said Kaytoo. "What is Cassian's precise condition? What was the nature of his illness? In what way am I needed? And while we're at it: what was the outcome of the mission and what has elapsed in the four intervening years? Is this data I could obtain most rapidly by interfacing with the holonet?"

"Some of it," said Bodhi, with another glance at the rest of them. He put the datapad into his lap and began his fingers racing over the display. "Linking you to the holonet now."

While Bodhi worked on that, Jyn supplied Kay with Cassian's full medical prognosis. (Not that she'd had it memorised.) She felt a bit validated when Kay responded with unmistakable grumpiness. "He let himself deteriorate too far. Like he did before Draven mandated me."

"Yes," said Jyn, perhaps overemphatically. "Which is part of why we don't want to wait any longer to bring you back. Because, as you're about to find from the 'net—how long, Bodhi?"

"Any second," said Bodhi. "…Now."

He pushed the button, and Kaytoo again went silent. Everyone's eyes went to Bodhi, whose eyes ran rapid and intent across the readout. Kay was interfacing. Assimilating. They waited.

Kay's voice at last returned. "…I see. I think I know why you think I'm particularly needed now."

"Yes?" said Bodhi.

"To aid him in transition," said Kaytoo. "To the prospect of the first time in his life not having a war in which to serve. And letting go of it will trigger past traumas that will now have to be mourned rather than pushed aside."

"You thought about this before," said Chirrut.

"Of course. My specialty is just—"

"—strategic analysis," Jyn joined with Kay, to Baze's amusement.

"Quite," said Kay, and this time Jyn could just imagine what his body language would be. "So now: on what aspect of the 'embodiment' do you need to consult? The difficulty of acquiring another KX?"

"Exactly," said Bodhi. "We've been trying to decide whether—"

"Why not just upload me to a different model?"

They all looked at each other as shoulders simultaneously slumped. Baze outright laughed.

"…Just like that?" said Jyn.

Bodhi added, "You wouldn't mind? And you'd still… be… you?"

"There may be variation," said Kay, "but I anticipate such would be negligible. Why? What were your concerns?"

They all managed to relay pieces of the conversation—from droids' rights to cognitive continuity to bodily autonomy to designblaming to Kay's agency.

"Interesting," said Kay. Jyn expected to be berated for their overcomplicating things—but his voice, when it came again, was… more…

…touched? "You've given a lot of thought on my behalf. Thank you.

"But yes, a different model would suffice. If Cassian needs me now, I need to be reimbodied _now._ If other concerns prove relevant, my consciousness could be moved again. Even if we wished to present a case on behalf of other droids, it would be much stronger with my direct and active testimony. If you wish my input on what kind of chassis would be preferable, I anticipate the choices are dictated by availability, so you should give me a list."

"Hang on," said Bodhi, fingers again flying. Before the others could ask, he added aloud: "Giving you access to current surplus inventory."

"Usually disordered and out of date," commented Kaytoo. "Might be best to just go into storage and look."

"Already done," said Chirrut, to Bodhi and Jyn's surprise. But they should have figured the Guardians hadn't just sat back. Baze nodded and produced another datapad. He called up a file and handed the pad to Bodhi, whose fingers started flying again.

"Have you considered becoming a slicer?" Jyn asked softly, part tease, part compliment.

"I'll leave that to you," said Bodhi with one of his quasi-abashed smiles. "Ah… here we go." He finished his task and the datapad with Kay's consciousness on it gave a small flash. Bodhi handed Baze's datapad back to him as Kaytoo integrated the data.

"This one," said Kay seconds later. Jyn and Baze both craned their necks to look at the display over Bodhi's shoulder. (Chirrut, naturally, did not.)

"A _protocol_ droid?" said Jyn with surprise.

Bodhi hummed thoughtfully. "Actually, that model should be almost the dimensions you're used to. Humanoid; chassis not as broad, but height and limb-length, similar."

"Why are we discussing it?" rumbled Baze. "He's chosen; let's go get it."

"Do we need clearance to take custody?" said Chirrut.

"Um…" Bodhi glanced up at Jyn, who made her feelings known with a shrug. "Yes?"

"If you link me to the mainframe," said Kaytoo, "I can take care of it right now."

They all looked at each other again, except Chirrut, but he was grinning. "Seems appropriate," he said.

"It really does," said Jyn with a dawning, lopsided smile.

"Do we want to risk having it confiscated because we're being impatient?" asked Bodhi. "Let's petition Draven. He made his support clear. And none of his objections apply to a protocol droid."

"Fine," said Jyn. "But Baze and I will grab the unit now to make sure it isn't scrapped or requisitioned before we get the all clear. We can do the actual installation once it's official."

"Or just go ahead and not tell anyone," said Baze. "Permission seems guaranteed."

Kaytoo said, "Bodhi's right. Proceeding without clearance might result in more delays than simply getting it."

Jyn nodded crisply. "Okay. Bodhi, Chirrut, you go to Draven; Baze, let's you and I go to storage. We've got a protocol droid to corrupt."

"I am not a corruption," said Kaytoo. But, if one could read a disembodied voice, he sounded smug about it.

• • • **_next_** • • •

Jyn lay still and quiet, in a way some who'd known her would never have believed. Others, who knew her capable of it in danger, would have wondered at her doing it with a smile. Her eyes half-open, breathing lightly, carding her fingers through Cassian's hair where his head lay on her breast.

There was a datapad under her other hand. She'd let it fall on the mattress. She found this was a moment she didn't need distracting from. This was a moment she could… live… in.

Cassian was still going in and out of consciousness. The medication he was still on; the shock his system had been through, which even he hadn't tried to dismiss. The war ending had hit him like any combat trauma. Jyn got it. She would never argue, _But this is good—it's what you've been working toward—didn't you hope?—aren't you glad?—how can you react like it's a bad thing?_ It _was_ , they _had,_ they _were,_ he _wasn't._ But Kay had gotten it right. This could be among the only utterly unprecedented things in Cassian's life.

Also: petrifying. Many struggled to believe or trust it, rather than brace for collapse into the next awful thing. Trying as they were to make sure it didn't.

And then… how would they _live_ it? Especially those, like Cassian, who thought they'd given up their place in it by what they'd done to bring it about.

Jyn wondered if she was only escaping her own such moment by focusing on his. No. No, she wasn't. She hadn't been fervently devoted in one war, which was supposed to end, that instead had gone immediately into—no, _created_ —(always really been?)—another. Also unlike him, she _had_ known peace. Even if she didn't trust it to last, either… was that worse? her deep rooted knowledge that nothing lasted, everything came back around, so just stay ready.

…But. This. _This_ was new. Holding him as he slept. The look of his lashes on his cheek, the roughness of his shadow on her skin, the weight of him against her, the way they melted together… Her wanting to do nothing but exactly this. She'd had another lover, once, but nothing they'd done, however similar, was _this._ There never had and never would be between anyone else.

Cassian stirred. "You were saying something?"

"You fell asleep again," Jyn said.

_"Jactna."_

"It's okay."

"I'm just sick of it."

"What would you rather be doing?" An inside joke. Neither of them knew what they "wanted" to do next. They never believed what they "wanted" could be a factor.

But Cassian answered. "Lying with you. Like this. Somewhere other than a barracks."

Jyn craned her neck to look in his face. "Such as?"

"I don't know. Outdoors. Somewhere quiet. You said you might want to go back to Lah'mu?" He misinterpreted her speechlessness and added, "Did I dream that?"

"N…no. I did say that." She moved her fingers again through his hair, her mind spinning. "…Can I get back to you?”

“Of course.” He bent to close his eyes against her skin.

She waited. Another effect of the medication, beyond opening him up more than usual, was aggravate a wandering mind. She ran back through what they’d been talking about earlier: _What use could I possibly be to a New Republic? I don’t have any_ legal _skills._

_Maybe, while building laws, they should have people who’ve been outside them. Look at the new ones and predict how they could be abused or broken._

All _laws can be abused and broken._

“I hate this,” Cassian muttered.

She knew what he meant. She joked anyway, “Thanks so much.”

His filters, his reserve, were nowhere when he said, “Skies, Jyn, you give me _rest_ like… nothing before.” Her heart thudded in her throat. “But I can’t stay awake… I can't do anything if you wanted to, back… everything’s just… _drugged.”_

She pressed her lips to his temple; lingered, breathing his scent. She wondered if she should be treasuring his candor so much when it _was_ under an influence, or push it aside (again) for when it would “count”.

Feke it. It counted.

“The alternative is relapse.” She knew he knew. He knew she agreed with his frustration. It was the ritual they returned to.

He made an effort to slow his breathing. “You’ve never said it,” he muttered.

“What?”

“How… _stupid_ this is.”

“What is?”

“Me. Carida. Sullust. Scarif. Sevarcos II. Ord Mantell. Coruscant. Now I’m knocked out by… a… _cold._ From the _right_ result… it’s ridiculous.”

She'd read his file. Carida: the riot that killed his father. Sullust: child soldier for the CIS. Scarif… of course. Sevarcos II: a crash that hurt him so badly, Draven grounded him until he got a partner to help keep him from recklessness. (Hello, Kay.) Coruscant: he'd been 'interrogated' for thirty hours. Ord Mantell: … something she could barely bring herself to think. Just reading the transcript from a helpless, listening Kaytoo… …And, then, they'd explored each other's scars…

“I looked into mind/body feedback” said Jyn, not showing her pause. _For Kay, and for us, too._ "A mental or emotional collapse will have physical impact.”

 _“Collapse.”_ He sounded angry. “It was so much worse finding out the Clone Wars were a lie. I got up. I got on with it. I didn’t get knocked out of commission for a week.”

“Two weeks. This is different. Your old purpose betrayed you, but you immediately had a new one. Now there’s nothing to hold the old things back.”

“You’re sounding pretty authoritative on _me.”_

“Maybe I am."

"…Yeah. You are."

_Who else? No one. When have you ever known such recognition?_

She moved on. "Anyway, the meds said you've had Affliceria. They said that never leaves your system. The mental…" What, 'stress'? He'd _lived_ stressed. …Surrender? Yeah, closer. Cessation of self-defense. "…lapse triggered a recurrence.”

“I know. Sorry. I’m just…” He made a face. “I’m tired of being _tired._ Ridiculous.”

“No it's not. I’ve had hyperlag. You probably live it.”

“Yeah. …Yeah.” He put his forehead to her skin again. “I’m sorry. I’m complaining a lot.”

“It’s like you’re sentient,” Jyn teased gently. In truth, she’d just been thinking, with actual _awe,_ that she’d never seen or heard him complain before. She wasn't annoyed. It was aching warmth through her whole body. He felt _that_ safe with her. Trusted her that much.

What had he said…? _Thank you for needing… for showing me._ She'd thought he was just being kind. She got it better, now. Let yourself be held. Be cared for. Especially when you weren't thinking you were earning it. Don't lie by protecting. Trust the other person to decide.

• • • **_next_** • • •

It was really too small a room for _all_ of them to be in. But there was no way they weren't going to be here for this. Jyn, Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut pressed together inside the closed door, to give space, to watch.

The protocol droid, unlike the models usually thought of first, was taller, spindlier, with a much graver, uningratiating, less anthropomorphic "face"—and, of course, painted black. It stood very tall over the bed, bent over, looking down into it.

That Cassian hadn't woken with a blaster in his hand at the door opening had told Kaytoo immediately the state he was in. Now, his oculars trained fixedly on Cassian's face.

They'd all seen Kay make intensive calculations in milliseconds. Whatever was going on in Kay's processors as he looked down at Cassian, it took _minutes._

But none of them hurried him or interrupted. They were family. They understood.

Finally, with a spine-straightening change conveying _decision,_ K-2SO smoothly bent and reangled his legs—he _knelt_ beside Cassian's bed. Reached out with a long-fingered hand—more delicate than a KX's had been, still stronger than any organic's—and touched Cassian's head.

"Cassian," came Kaytoo's old voice from the new vocabulator. (Yes: each droid's particular voice was indeed _software.)_ "Wake up."

Cassian's brow furrowed, without opening his eyes.

"You don't have to, Kay," he muttered. "I don't want you to. _Please."_

"To what are you referring?" asked Kay. His quietness made Bodhi startle a little, where he pressed to Jyn's side.

Cassian's hand closed into a fist. Jyn remembered him slamming it into the vault's locked door. "You said 'Goodbye'."

"I did," said Kaytoo. "If I had to choose again, I'd still do it."

"I didn't tell you you had to. Why did you say that?"

"You didn't in so many words," said Kay. "But there was only one choice. If I wanted to aid in preserving your and Bodhi's and Jyn's and Chirrut's and Baze's lives. The alternative, regardless of what we did with it, was to accept surrender. Bodhi would have been reclaimed by the Empire and executed. For that, Jyn, Chirrut, and Baze would have refused to further cooperate with the Alliance. And you… you would have ended up throwing yourself at a quicker way to die."

"So I didn't give you any choice."

To Jyn's slicer mind, what Kay said next was the most shocking thing. Because it wasn't strictly, technically true. She hadn't thought Kay capable of inaccuracy or hyperbole. But apparently he was capable of anything, for Cassian.

"How many times, Cassian?" said Kay. "One choice instead of zero. One or zero. That's all the difference there is."

A muscle jumped in Cassian's jaw. "I miss you," he said softly.

"You don't have to," said K-2. "Wake up."

A breathless moment.

Cassian opened his eyes.

He squinted against the low light. Then he started near-upright at the close presence of the large droid. His hand automatically reaching for the end table—for a blaster that wasn't there. (Jyn had moved it away.) Cassian's eyes whipped over the strange droid model. He spared a glance for the rest of them, enough to confirm them as _known entities: friendlies,_ without turning from the new being by a millimetre.

"What is this?" Cassian said. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

"Cassian," said Kay.

All the muscles in Cassian's face went slack. He said blankly, "Kay?"

"Yes," confirmed Kay. "My backup was activated." He tilted his new head in the direction of the others. "Surprise!"

Cassian reached out a hand to touch the round moulding low on the protocol model's chestplate.

"I was trying to find you," he said. "The right body for you. I didn't think… This… you're okay with this?"

"My choice," said Kay again. "Jyn said you needed me."

"That's _always_ true, Kay," said Cassian. "I've never _not_ needed you."

"Then you should have accepted this solution long ago," reproved Kay.

"You might have told me it was an acceptable option," retorted Cassian.

"I should have," conceded Kay. "The situation seemed a bit urgent for probable projections."

"Never stopped you before." But onto Cassian's face was coming the dared beginnings of a smile. "…So I was just wrong? Putting everything on getting you back into a KX?"

"No," said Kay. "Not wrong. Sentimental, perhaps. …But not wholly that, either. I _am_ registering some differences in my cognition. Feedback to code from physical functions. Assimilation of design. …But… I can't say I dislike it. I could get used to it."

Kay added, almost primly: "As long as I'm still taller than everyone else."

Baze half-suppressed a laugh. Bodhi, also, more nervously. Chirrut was placidly focused. Jyn, tensely.

Cassian's eyes flickered to, roamed over, them again. Then he sat upright with an open _laugh._ And put his forehead against Kay's new plating, grasping one of his new hands.

Kaytoo, with a gentleness that Jyn likewise knew was decidedly _not_ the hardware, wrapped one long arm around Cassian's back.

• • • **_soon_** • • •

His flesh pressed her, parted her, and at _last_ slid inside.

All that was locked at the back of their throats _burst_ out in sound. But something far deeper flooded suddenly too.

Because as he started to curve, to push himself up inside her, she suddenly grabbed his braced wrists with her trembling hands. Jyn gasped out, "Don't leave."

Cassian stopped moving. His braced arms had endurance to burn, so he stayed very, very still; looking down at her. She closed her eyes which didn't stop a tear.

He didn't tremble, despite the effort of keeping his lower half perfectly still, and the effort of keeping his upper half’s movements _so slow._ Cassian lowered himself, closing the angle between them. He kissed the tear on her cheek and the side of her face. He pressed his chest to hers, ran his hands between her back and the mattress, wrapped his arms around her and put his face beside hers.

He whispered back, "I will never choose to leave you. Not ever."

She was perfectly still in turn; not holding him (except where she already did), not putting her hands on him, not flexing to his touch; just squeezing her eyes tighter, around more tears. Even one, actually falling, had been so much from her.

They shared the same understanding of the universe. He couldn't promise _I never will._ Only _I will never **choose**._

“Not to protect me,” she whispered.

“No,” he whispered back. “That doesn’t work.”

She let out a startled, strangely joyous sound.

Keeping his eyes open, on her, he traced her cheek with his nose and lips; held her closer still; whispered: "Of everyone we've ever known… I think you and I are maybe better, now, at keeping things _our choice."_

A breath escaped her that wasn't a laugh, but lighter; and suddenly she put her arms around him and wept.

He held her close. He started to pull out of her below. She clutched him hard and gasped, "Stay. Stay."

Hoping he was understanding, he lowered himself back down that impossible inch. The feel of her flushed walls around him… He kept his muscles from reacting to the sensation (the slide, her grip)… allowed no constriction, of himself, that would result in a thrust. He forced his lower body to utterly relax, no impulse, no impulsion, just the two of them sifting, sinking together, filling one another's spaces as they always should, in a way more permanent than just sex. He was grateful for the first time in his life for his training. It gave him the ability to painstakingly balance—both keep himself hard, to stay anchored in her fully, and not let that lead to anything else—get ahead of them. Any movement he made was on her face. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb gently brushed her tears, his lips pressed to her other cheek. Whatever part of him she needed, yielding to any move she made; just riding it through with her.

The wracking of her throat and chest finally stopped. Her hands moved down his back, pressed into the small of his spine. She abruptly, but gently, dug her hips, scooping him in so far, so deep, his breath left him. He moved back his face to meet her eyes. She met them clear and focused and determined as he'd ever seen; eyes like kyberlight. Locking their gaze, she moved one hand, slow and deliberate, to the back of his neck. She held him there, still and stable now in his upper half now; and she began to move them both below.

He followed her, full willing—he was always, with her—following her to what he'd always badly wanted. Then they were tumultuous in their waves, their grasps and thrusts, bearing down on each other in sweetly aching desperate _need;_ chasing, plateauing, their breath crashing and unknown sounds escaping from both their throats; but their eyes never closed or unlocked—not from each other; they barely blinked; his shoulders and chest remained suspended, hers laid back; their faces very still, never meeting. As below they toiled and collided like a sea, and spasmed and clenched and _pushed_ and they gasped out almost together; and he _broke,_ bursting so hard into her, as her walls clamped shut upon him, he doubled forward, back arched, torso crumpled, whole body concaved to flood, pour, throb him out.

Their heartbeats thudding there, too; releasing; as they slowed and stilled; and still, diverging from where their trembling stomachs pressed together, he breathlessly regained his place; held back above her, and she held his eyes with hers.

Finally, their heaving chests and muscles, tissues, hearts all slowed. Her walls loosened, as he spent his last, pulsing into her. And finally, Jyn blinked.

Shaking, now, Cassian moved a hand again to her face, to brush back her hair.

She gave him a look that wasn't _not_ a smile.

And folded him in her arms and brought him down to her chest, where he closed his eyes into her flesh and fought to catch his breath and found he hadn’t even noticed that he was the one now weeping.

She whispered, “I choose you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, Kay's new model! Which is actually a return to one of his concept designs: https://www.gamesradar.com/star-wars-rogue-one-concept-art-offers-new-looks-at-familiar-faces/
> 
> Though I'm not personally into exploring it the way I am Jyn/Cas, it was important to me to have the narrative explicitly include Chirrut and Baze as having a sexual relationship. Their partnership would be _no less_ loving or legitimate or a _marriage_ it if _didn't_ have a sexual aspect. At the same time, I think it's great when other fan artists keep adding parts to the Star Wars universe, (and wanted to add my silly informal microcorner of it,) that actually _commit_! (It's something of a Dumbledore complex, for me. The utter failure to include that profoundly relevant truth (not necessarily sex but supposedly determinedly homoromantic love) anywhere in the actual _text,_ only pay lip service later, felt like such a cop-out, it physically hurt. _Rise of Skywalker_ did hardly better re: publicity build-up versus actual screen moment for claiming LGBTQIA inclusion/representation.) So, there! It's not just a "legitimate interpretation" or "clear subtext" (though I love Gareth Edwards, at the time ever-so-slightly ahead of the curve, stating so!). They _are_ married (whether by any particular legal sanction is irrelevant), and that can unabashedly and definitively include same-sexytimez.


	12. 3274, 3275, 3277 (Leia, Bodhi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been eagerly diving into [fulcrumstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrumstardust/pseuds/fulcrumstardust)’s & my other fic, but I haven’t forgotten this one! :-) Sorry for the delay between chapters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it threatens to dampen anyone’s enjoyment, [ **SPOILER** but] please don’t worry, we’re still Jyn/Cas OTP in here; this chapter doesn’t go Cas/Leia. I just quite like the idea that they’ve crossed paths over the years and may have enjoyed a witty, maybe flirty friendship. Also, not for the first time in this fic, a lot of this is an expansion of something mentioned briefly in _[The Silver in Your Dark Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399818/chapters/35730450#workskin)._ (At least I’m stealing from myself?)
> 
> If you _do_ want a great Cassian/Leia fic, _[After You're Gone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824214/chapters/54548194)_ by [thekatriarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekatriarch/pseuds/thekatriarch) is _spectacular._

**\- 3274 LY -**

AT-AV flopped onto her back to bat the falling starflowers. Leia shook the branch and laughed as AV nosedived into the windfall.

“I can’t believe you named her that,” said Winter.

“I love it,” said Milyn. “A pittin absolutely qualifies as an All-Terrain Attack Vehicle.”

“Aunt Tia wasn’t amused.” Leia grinned. “But she couldn’t take it back.”

“Her other three are ‘Winkie’, ‘Fluffy’, and ‘Taffy’,” Winter told Milyn somberly. Milyn burst out laughing.

Leia was glad she’d met Milyn in the Apprentice Legislature. Winter was her dearest friend, whom she was eternally grateful to have near, but Winter always had such placid reserve. (Visitors to the palace often assumed that Winter, not ragged-hemmed skinned-kneed Leia, was the princess.) Milyn could more reciprocate Leia’s impatience and wickeder sense of humor.

Though it was Milyn, now, who suddenly asked, “So have you decided?”

“I think so.” Leia let go of the branch to scratch AV’s head. The pittin headbutted and purred. Then AV caught sight of, Leia presumed, a new fascinating subatomic particle, and zoomed off to investigate. “It’s predictable, but I’ve decided to climb Appenza Peak. And I’m going to ask Mom to accompany me.”

Winter made a surprised sound. “Didn’t she almost die when she did it for _her_ Day of Demand?”

“That’s sort of why?” Leia brushed the blue petals from her lap. “I feel like… it can fulfill something unfinished for her at the same time as being a rite of passage for me. Plus, with her cybernetics, I’ll bet she could save me, now, if I needed.”

“She’ll certainly want you to have backup,” mulled Winter.

“I love that. But that’s not what I’m asking about,” said Milyn.

“You already know what I’m doing for ‘Mind’,” said Leia, brow wrinkling. “I’m going to represent Alderaan in—”

“I’m talking more about _Heart,”_ said Milyn.

“Oh—!” Leia sat forward in sudden eagerness. “I can’t confirm, yet. But I’m going to try to see if I can lead some of the relief missions Dad’s talking about. I know it’s not the kind of thing royalty’s expected to do firsthand.”

“Nor what a planet keeping a nominal cover of cooperation with the Empire is ‘expected’ to do,” Winter whispered.

“Exactly,” Leia whispered back. “On Wobani alone…” Her eyes flickered around the gardens. “I shouldn’t go into it here. Though I’d welcome your thoughts, Milyn, later. Winter’s already helping me to plan.”

“That’s amazing,” Milyn said, very seriously, with a level of sincere regard that made Leia happily surprised.

 _“But,”_ added Milyn, suddenly back to full voice and a broad, mischievous grin, “I wasn’t talking about your Challenges at all.”

Leia frowned, glancing at Winter who shrugged. “Then what?”

Milyn looked between them and threw up her hands. “Come on! Really? Screaming skies. Leia, I’m talking about _Isolder!”_

Leia sputtered. “For Force’s sake!”

“You haven’t thought about it at _all?”_ Milyn waggled her eyebrows. “You could ask _him_ to help you climb the Peak.”

Winter snorted.

“It’s so stupid,” Leia groaned. “I have more important things to think about. It’s a waste of time.”

“Having rounded life experiences isn’t a waste of time,” Milyn scolded.

“Fair point,” said Winter.

Leia threw petals at both of them.

“Come _on,”_ repeated Milyn. “You haven’t rejected his suit.”

“Forestalling the inevitable conniptions of my aunts,” said Leia.

“You don’t have _any_ opinions of him? At _all?”_

Leia rolled her eyes. “I guess he’s pleasant enough company. He listens well. Certainly not the worst suitor they’ve thrown me at. He can be funny, when he tries.”

“No physical component?” said Milyn slyly.

Winter suppressed a smile.

“I…” Leia felt herself flush a little and shook out her skirts to be rid of the last clinging petals. “I mean, sure, he’s attractive… of course I’m _curious._ And… I don’t think I’d mind—”

Milyn’s sudden gasp made Leia blink.

“You asked!” reproved Leia.

“No—” Milyn seized Leia’s hand, nodding unsubtly across the garden. “Chandril on a gundark, is that him?”

“What? Who?”

“Pfassk it, Leia, just the most beautiful karking man I’ve ever laid eyes on standing right over there!”

“You mean the one next to the enormous Imperial-branded _killdroid?”_ hissed Winter.

Leia turned her head. There they were, standing in a far corner of the garden, speaking to one of her father’s aides. “That’s not Isolder,” she said. “He’s way too old. Don’t worry about the droid. They’ve been here before, to talk to Dad. He says the droid’s safe.” _‘Maybe not quite’ Imperial anymore._

“Who is he, then?” said Milyn.

“I’m not sure,” admitted Leia. “Winter?”

Winter shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing him before.” —which was _strange._ Winter’s perfect memory tracked everyone. Had Leia managed to catch sight of a secret?

“Just someone who does business with my father, I guess,” said Leia, downplaying what she realized that must mean.

“And is _exquisite,”_ breathed Milyn.

Leia laughed. “Honestly, Holdo!”

“Kriffing hell, Leia, you wouldn’t let him do unprecedented things to you?”

Behind her hand, Winter was actually laughing.

Leia repeated dismissively, with deliberate primness, “He’s too old. Do you mind?” She never thought she’d be relieved to turn the conversation back to Isolder and/or her aunts.

But her eyes did keep going back to Milyn's unknown man. Who… feke it, yes, was nice to look at. Leia found herself particularly ~~susceptible to~~ interested by the arches of his brow. Maybe because he didn’t emote much else. Maybe because—

“Hey!” called Winter suddenly. Leia’s attention jolted away.

Two of the court’s children had been tearing around the garden. As they neared the speaking adults, one of them tripped. Leia and Winter caught their breath.

The child’s head did not hit the ground. The big black battledroid— _(security_ droid, Leia automatically reminded herself of the passed legislature, however token and potentially underhanded it was) —effortlessly reached out one suprahumanly long arm. It caught the child under one armpit, smoothly hoisted them, and set them back on their feet. The transition was so seamless, the child kept running as if unaware anything had happened.

Leia took a moment to process. Then she stood up. Winter and Milyn looked at her in confusion. Leia walked to a point where the children’s trajectory would intersect. When it did, she caught them.

“Hi,” she said, kneeling. “Did you notice how you almost fell, back there?”

“Yes, Leia,” the child answered. (It was the form of address Leia herself insisted on, and Bail supported it. It was in accord with his measures to ensure all stations mingled at court, especially below a certain age. —No matter how it appalled Leia’s aunts.)

“And you noticed how the droid caught you?” asked Leia.

“Yes, Leia.”

“So, what should you do?”

The child looked bewildered. “What should I do?”

Leia gave the child a gentle tap on the back. “You should go back and thank it.”

“It’s just a droid,” said the child, mystified.

“Droids are sentient,” said Leia, “just like you and me. Even if they weren’t, your behavior is about who _you_ are, as well as who you’re talking to. So you should always be kind and gracious, because that’s the kind of person we’d prefer to be. Yes?”

“Yes,” said the child dutifully. Leia smiled, nodded, and straightened up.

The child turned around and ran back to the droid. Leia saw in their body language that they were doing as she’d said. The droid seemed unaffected. But Milyn’s man showed a flash of such astonishment, it hit Leia amidships. For just an instant, he turned his dark eyes toward her.

Staying perfectly regal, Leia nodded to him.

Unreadable, again, he nodded back.

With great dignity, Leia turned away and strode back to a thoughtful-looking Winter and a nearly-exploding Amilyn.

 _“Go ask his name!”_ Milyn expostulated.

“Pffft,” breezed Leia, “I have enough to keep track of with my Day of Demand and the Legislature and, as _you_ pointed out, Isolder. —skies! somebody grab AV before she falls in the fountain...”

**\- 3274 LY -**

Leia passed all her Challenges for her Day of Demand, including her and Queen Breha successfully climbing the mountain. Her celebratory dinner had some visiting dignitaries in attendance. That’s when Leia spotted him standing silent, like an aide, behind her father’s chair.

Leia leaned over to pinch Winter’s sleeve. “Look—it’s Milyn’s man again. What’s he doing here?”

“You’ve been busy,” whispered Winter, “I didn’t get to tell you before. Your father instructed that none of us should try to speak to him. Just behave as if he’s a servant.”

The _idea_ of a servant. “Oh.” It wasn’t unprecedented. …Especially as Leia began to understand so much more about her father’s work. _More_ especially, as she was beginning to take it up, herself.

“I did get a name, though,” said Winter softly. “Fiaro.”

Leia raised her eyebrows, nodded her thanks, and let Winter go. She did as instructed, ignoring the man through the rest of the meal. She focused instead on her parents, their guests, Winter—and, when he arrived apologetic and late, Isolder. Her eyes only flickered back to ‘Fiaro’ a few times.

**\- 3275 LY -**

Leia sat in the garden, watching the starflowers that were beginning to bloom. She was Bail’s aid in the Senate, now, and had just gotten approval to conduct a relief mission to Lothal. She was taking a break from planning and packing, wanting a minute to breath.

Which, less worthily, also gave her a moment’s headspace to stew on Isolder. He’d shown some true colors when she broke up with him, which _she’d_ tried to do amicably, and he’d turned into a complete blasterpfassk. He'd shouted that she was just doing it to try to take her father’s place, and what kind of person she’d turn out to be making decisions that way. No mention at all, of course, of what _he’d_ done to _her._

Leia’s eyes wandered, hunting distraction, and she saw him again. Milyn’s man, looking up at the trees. Alone. No Bail. No aide. No security droid.

Likewise, no Winter, no Milyn, no instructions, and no kriffing Isolder.

Barely a moment’s consideration. Then, with bold abandon, Leia stood and walked straight to him. “Hello.”

It was the first time she was positioned to note how much taller than her he was. (Not surprising; so were most humanoids.) “Hello, your highness,” he said.

“ ‘Leia’, please,” said Leia. “You are?”

“I’m no one,” he said.

Leia gave him an unimpressed look. “Oh, please. I’ve seen you before. You work with my father?”

“I’m more of a courier.”

“With an Imperial security droid.”

“He’s… been honorably discharged. He’s more of a friend.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s…” She always heard droids spoken of as belongings, not friends. She imagined what adventures someone could have with a friend like that. “…marvelous!”

His mouth twitched like he could smile. “That’s a refreshing reaction. I guess I’m not surprised.”

“Oh?” She gave her eyebrows regal archness. “Why’s that?”

“I remember what you did. Last year. With the children.”

Leia blinked, strangely touched.

The man added, “And I think your father’s very wise. Very kind. I’ve heard you follow in his footsteps.”

It was such a contrast to Isolder. She couldn’t help, more genuinely than she meant, to smile. “Thank you. That means a lot. Are you waiting for him now?”

“No. Our business is done. I just like it here.”

Leia grinned some more. “So do I.”

A disarmingly warm smile got further along on his face, this time. It quickly became more formal. “I don’t mean to take your time. I’m all right on my own.”

Leia struck a regal pose. “I’m choosing how to spend my time, thank you very much.”

“I’m really not worth it. I’ll bore you.”

“Are you telling me what to feel, mysterious man?”

He smiled again, but his eyes were back to being unreadable. “Really: Why are you talking to me?”

Pfassk it. “Because,” she said, “I just got dumped by a doshing vac-head, you’re absurdly handsome, and I thought I’d do something nice for myself that doesn’t hurt anyone. You know, as opposed to doing something for myself that would hurt _him.”_

She belatedly wondered if there was a reason nobody in the Galaxy said things like that.

To her relief, he _laughed._ “You’re _really_ refreshing.”

“You don’t mind that I’m objectifying you?”

“You’re the one who said I wasn’t no one.”

“You’re not. Nobody is.”

“No one is no one. That’s—”

“A fact,” she berated. “Don’t play semantics.”

A smaller but still dazzlingly warm smile. “Okay.”

Leia let one arm fall to her side, keeping the other braced on her hip. “Will you give me a name, now? I don’t believe it’s _Fiaro.”_

“How—” A new arch of her brow made him stop. “Okay. Joreth.”

“Is _that_ your real name?”

“No.”

“For pittins’ sake.”

“I’m sorry.”

She reached to untwist two branches that had gotten tangled. “I guess the nature of your work with my father requires some subterfuge.”

“You’re fishing.”

“That obvious? I’ll work on it.”

“Actually, you’re pretty good.”

She grinned. “Give me a crash course? Let's see… Tell me three things: two lies and one truth. I’ll pick out the truth.”

“The ‘truth’?” he repeated. “Or the sincerity?”

“The second,” she granted. “But that’s the kind of truth I’m going to be need to be good at to go into politics, don’t you think?”

“I’d appreciate more politicians being in touch with _both.”_ He seemed to notice the darkness in his own words by Leia’s (not disagreeing) frown. He quickly backstepped; mirroring her by reaching up to brush the starflowers. “Okay. Three things. One…”

Leia was so transported by their conversation, she was surprised to notice that they’d moved to the center of the gardens and now sat on the verges of the Queen’s Fountain.

“So who’s the doshing vac-head?” ~~Fiaro/Joreth~~ finally asked.

The question should feel intrusive. It didn't. Maybe because she found him so attractive, maybe because of the genuine regard for her and disdain for her inflictor in his big dark eyes…

Leia made a dismissive gesture, belying how nice it felt to be actually asked. “It was doomed from the start. He was a suitor for my hand before he even met me—completely political—and my aunts approved of him, which should have been an immediate warning sign.”

“But it went far enough to break up?”

“It did.” She bit a grimace. “I actually became involved with him… for about a year. I don’t even know why… I think it felt like the path of least resistance, among everything else I was supposed to do. And he _was_ attractive, and seemed nice enough. For a while.”

“What happened?”

Her mouth tightened. She shouldn’t be so quick to share this with a stranger. But she wanted to. So she did. “He pressured me… into sleeping together… and I _did it.”_

The way the man winced made her feel so vindicated, so moved, she was bewildered.

“I hope it wasn’t too bad,” he said.

“No,” said Leia contemplatively. “It wasn’t. Just… I gave away all my power. I can’t believe I did that. That’s what happens to other people. Not me.”

“It happens to everyone.”

“Has it to you?”

He glanced away.

“Sorry!” said Leia, blinking at herself. “Pfassk, I’m sorry. Not telling me your name… of course you’re not going to tell me your kriffing sexual history.”

He flashed a slight smile. “One of these things is classified. The other isn’t.”

“Classified! Ha! I reeled in _some_ detail.”

He laughed the way Winter did. Small, too used to suppression, but real.

“So that was it?” he said after a moment. “I mean. It’s enough.”

Leia felt her smile turn rueful… and ever-so-slightly enraged. “I’m mostly pissed off that…” She bit her lip. Was she really going to go on? …Pfassk, yes, she was. It was the kind of thing she wished more people would be open about. “That it was my first time. I know that doesn’t really matter and no one’s keeping track and tragically few _first times_ are all that great. But… it’s very frustrating. For my view of _myself._ I was always so sure I’d choose better.”

He hesitated. Then moved his hand beside hers on the fountain wall. “We make decisions on the information we have. When it comes to trust, we can’t _get_ all the information until after certain choices play out.”

She blinked again, examining his face less superficially. “Trust,” she echoed slowly. “Yes… that’s it. Thank you. I kept thinking in terms of _love_ and _sex,_ but I know I didn’t love him, and the sex wasn’t really the issue. _Trust._ If not in him, then in myself.”

“You can still trust yourself. _You_ should. A mistake just makes you learn. Doesn’t undo the rest.”

“You don’t know me,” she said softly, slightly smiling.

“Not much,” he conceded. “But I’m right.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Leia sensed that if she actually touched his hand, he'd pull away. She didn’t feel either of them needed that. So she removed her hand from the fountain first.

Then she broke the moment, wrily, “So. If I don’t have the clearance now, I’m _going_ to, later. Maybe even soon. Tell me your kriffing name.”

The moment dissolved peacefully and his eyes laughed again. “Why do you care?”

“We’re friends now,” she said with a conspiratorial grin. Of course they weren't but they could share the joke. “I just gave you some real leverage over me. Give _me_ something.”

His ridiculous eyes searched hers, then crinkled with warmth. “My middle name is Jerón.”

“Not your first name?”

“Most who know my first name _don’t_ know my middle name. You’re in more specialized company.”

“Jerón,” she said airily. “I guess that’ll do.”

It felt like an ending, and she did eventually have to get back to work. With a rueful smile, Leia stood. “I’ll hope to see you again, Something-Jerón.” He stood to match her.

“You asked if it ever happened to me,” he said suddenly. “Every time.”

She couldn’t process that. He couldn’t mean it. That would be horrifying.

“But,” he added. He suddenly looked… awkward? worried? scared? “I know how to… Um… If you… wanted… a better experience. To overwrite the other one.”

Leia let herself gape. “Are you _offering_ to sleep with me?”

He winced. “…Yes? I know I'm too old for you… I just… you… should get to… um. On this planet, don't you often take… what's the word… _tutors?_ for…?”

“Yes, we do… to empower positive experience before trying with other neophytes. I think it's a lovely option. And that’s the most audacious karking thing anyone has ever said to me. Including the doshing vac-head.” He started to apologize. Princess Leia cut him off by taking hold of his collar, pulled his face down to hers, and gave him a quite enjoyable kiss.

“I think I don’t want to make such a decision right now,” she said, “when I’m being impulsive for dubious reasons. But… will you please favor me, to ask me again, next time you’re here?”

“I don’t know when I’m next here,” he said. “But if you like, I definitely will.”

She gave him her most dazzling smile, feeling it shine right out of her with a strange sense of triumph. “Thank you. Thank you for indulging me and being so nice. This has been a very memorable afternoon. A genuine pleasure to finally meet you, Whoever-Jerón.”

“And you, —Leia.”

**\- 0 ABY -**

Bodhi and Baze sat in the medical facility on Yavin 4. They’d been here since they landed from Scarif. Bodhi’s injuries had been the slightest, so he’d been released first. Baze still sported a sling and would have to continue check-ins for a concussion, but he’d also been released from observation. They’d been assured Chirrut was responding well to treatment and would be able to join them soon. That left the three others. One, they waited for. Another, they didn’t know. The third would never come back.

Bodhi wished he could get his eyes to focus on the data pad. There was so much he could be doing with this time if he could only concentrate. So much he could catch up on, if he decided to join the Rebellion, or to help him make that decision. But his eyes wouldn’t focus. He was frustrated at himself. _You’re not the one with the concussion. What is wrong with you?_

Either member the team who might have answered him… _Chirrut will be fine._ Kaytoo…

Bodhi’d assumed they would all die. If anyone was to survive, he’d felt sure Kaytoo would be one. He must be the hardest to kill.

Now, it seemed obvious. Of course Kaytoo would be destroyed before letting Cassian be killed. Bodhi wished he’d taken more time to talk to the droid. If anything he might have said would have meant anything, if Kaytoo had ever realized how much what _he_ said had impacted Bodhi.

Baze’s silence had physical weight. Bodhi didn’t mind. He almost felt grateful. Silence let the weight of Jedha settle around them. There simply hadn’t been time until now. The realities of the past few days— _how was it only two days_ —needed to descend. Bodhi wondered why he hadn’t gone mad.

 _Because he had done, already._ He never would have thought of Bor Gullet as a kind of innoculation.

Too big. Too much thinking. Too little knowledge. Too little sense. _Just wait, now. You did what you could. Now wait._

Bodhi startled, realizing he’d drifted off. Baze sat exactly as he had all along, his eyes never closed and never moving from a spot on the floor. Until the door they were waiting on opened, and both of them looked up.

A medical droid was moving smoothly. Leaning on its arm—

“Thank Jedi,” exclaimed Bodhi, the unthinking idiom, as Baze was already on his feet and slipping his arm around Chirrut to take the place of the droid.

“Thank the Force,” answered Chirrut, smiling at Baze and turning it also in Bodhi’s direction, including him. For Chirrut, of course, it wasn’t just a customary Jedhan phrase.

A momentary silence as Baze and Chirrut kissed. Then the droid said: “I have news of Captain Andor.” The three Jedhans turned to it. “His vitals have stabilized. He has been removed from the bacta tank. General Draven instructs that visitors may be permitted but that Captain Andor additionally requires constant observation.”

“Medically?” said Baze.

“Suicide watch,” said the droid helpfully.

Chirrut raised his head. Baze and Bodhi stared at each other.

“While a droid would be best suited to the task,” the droid continued, “there is evidence supporting benefit by utilizing someone the patient already knows and trusts.”

“I’ll do it,” said Bodhi.

“So will we,” said Baze.

“Can we all three at once?” said Chirrut. “Or do we take turns?”

“I will confirm with General Draven,” said the droid. “Please wait.” It turned back through the same door.

“Are you up to it?” said Bodhi. “You’re both still hurt. I got off easy. I won’t be uncomfortable, just sitting for a while.”

“If we need rest, I’ll make sure we take it,” said Baze.

Chirrut nodded sadly. “I suppose the General knows things about Captain Andor that we don’t.”

Bodhi swallowed. It was hard to remember… they knew one another only _two days._

“I don’t know how we’ll tell him,” said Bodhi. “About Kay.”

“I suspect he knows that one,” said Baze.

Bodhi tried to finish his sentence but couldn’t. Chirrut did it softly for him: “And Jyn.”

Bodhi felt like he should be angry. But he couldn’t be. Two days or not, they _had_ gotten to know each other, in some fundamental ways. And, almost in spite of himself, he felt that he understood. Sometimes the only thing one felt one could do for others was protect them from one's own pain. And sometimes, that feeling had merit, when a pain did need care being alone.

“Let him wake up first,” said Chirrut. “Then we’ll find the way.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” said Baze. He didn’t mean in med bay. Though it might only be Baze and Chirrut, Bodhi couldn’t help but feel _(hope)_ he was included in the ‘we’. They were a team. They’d lost Jedha. He’d already sacrificed all he knew in defecting, but now he _really_ didn’t know who else he might have left.

“At least until Captain Andor wakes up,” said Chirrut. “Then…”

“We’ll find the way,” repeated Baze.

Yes, they meant Bodhi in the _’we’._

Either alone would clearly have sat in the chair indefinitely. Baze in some fiercely focused altered state, Chirrut in serener meditation. For one another, they finally conceded that they would take a shift to sleep. Bodhi urged them off and resettled himself at Cassian’s bedside.

He regretted it when he startled awake. _You have **one** job!_ he yelled at himself. Then his eyes focused and it was even worse.

Cassian was awake—sort of. He didn’t seem aware of where he was. He was sitting upright and gazing down at the needle of the catheter he’d pulled out of his own forearm… and now had traced a red line with on his wrist.

“Hey!” said Bodhi, urgently while quietly as he could. “Cap… Cassian?” (He’d used Cassian’s familiar name with Kaytoo, but it was the first time he’d addressed the man himself by it.)

Cassian’s head lifted and his eyes turned to Bodhi. The look in them made Bodhi positive that Cassian was still at least partially asleep.

“You don’t need that,” said Bodhi gently, instinctively, moving a little closer without leaving his chair. “It’s okay.”

Cassian looked at him blankly. Bodhi wondered what Cassian was actually seeing.

“You’re safe,” Bodhi repeated, wondering if he was saying remotely the right things. “You’re with the Alliance. Your mission succeeded. Please put that down.”

A terrified moment. Then Cassian set down the needle and sank back onto his pillows… and was immediately out again.

Heart thudding in his throat, Bodhi hit the call button, for an attendant to come and put the IV back into Cassian’s arm. Bodhi couldn’t relax again. He was terrified he would let Cassian and all of them down.

He could tell by the light through the high windows that it was almost dawn, and his head was aching from staring into the darkness, not quite able to tell if he’d stayed awake or drifted off. When he heard footsteps and turned to see…

“Jyn?” Bodhi dared to whisper.

But no. This person was Human, female-presenting, of similar small stature and colouration, but dressed and held herself completely differently. She came into clear view with an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid not. Are you Bodhi Rook?”

“Yes,” said Bodhi. “Wh-who are you?”

“My name is Leia,” she said kindly. “I’ve come to relieve you, so you can get some sleep.”

Bodhi’s mouth dropped. Over the last few days of waiting, he’d heard so many things, but Leia Organa’s name was almost a constant among them. _And oh Force… Alderaan…_

“Your Highness,” said Bodhi. “I’m so, so sorry. Your planet.”

Leia gave a smile back that reminded Bodhi of Galen. A sadness the size of the galaxy. Which could never communicate itself but Bodhi actually understood. And clearly so did she, because she said softly, “Thank you. I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Alderaanian and Jedhan once were fairly opposite. No longer.

Bodhi finally swallowed. “Thank you for your offer, but… I think I should stay. If—” _(‘when!’_ he’d later yell at himself) “—he wakes up, there should be someone he knows.”

“We know each other,” Leia assured Bodhi, with a less heavy smile. “We go years back. I don’t want to force you—I agree, he’ll want to hear from you, his team, quickly. But you also need sleep. I’ll send for you, and your teammates, once he wakes. I promise.”

Bodhi liked to think he wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded, if she were anyone else. But this was Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, and he would believe and obey her full willingly. He nodded and stood… then only hesitated when his eyes ran over Cassian again. “You know… what Draven said…?”

“I understand what I’m watching for,” Leia said very softly. Once more: “I promise.”

Bodhi nodded, turned it into a little more of a bow, then, with some guilt but also relief, headed out. He realized he had no idea where he was staying, but he found a terminal and located Baze and Chirrut. He hoped they wouldn’t mind if he joined them. He needed to stay… as Leia said: with his team.

* * *

Leia settled herself into the chair Bodhi had left warmed for her. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to be idle since her cell aboard the Death Star, and the first she’d given herself space to _breathe_ since her father deployed her to the Tantive IV.

_Skies. Dad. Mom._

The overbearing aunts. Winter? Even tiny pink AT-AV…

Stop. If she let herself begin to do any of the grieving, it would _all_ come, and take her organs and bones along with the tears.

The Death Star was gone, Luke and Han and Chewbacca were staying, Artoo was repaired, the Alliance was saved, and the process of moving to a new base would take time and not involve her for much of it. She had nothing to do. So why not help out an old… maybe not a friend, but an ally. _One of the only people in the Galaxy that I…_

She settled in with her datapad, doing what work she could, and keeping herself cold and quiet on the inside as she started the processes of tracking offworld Alderaanian survivors. They would hear, how couldn’t they, and might present themselves to the Alliance. But they should be found nonetheless. Informed personally. Remembered. Embraced. Some would need rehoming. Some might choose to enlist.

And she might find… _Shhhh. Stillness. Not now._

He didn’t move when he woke up, so she was still looking at her datapad until he spoke. “When is it?”

(In years to come, she’d wish she’d known in advance, to tell him: “The beginning of a new calendar. Thanks to you.” Then, the old system persisted a little longer.) “3277. One week and one day after the Battle of Scarif. Four days after the destruction of the Death Star. You’re on Yavin 4 and the Alliance lives. Your mission succeeded, Captain Andor.” A faint smile. “See? I got the clearance. I know your name, now. Imagine my surprise when I looked at the intake roster. I wouldn’t forget your face.”

He spoke through a parched throat. “The others?”

Leia sympathetically winced. It was microcosmic next to Alderaan, but the same matter. “We don’t know exactly who joined your mission, since it was unsanctioned. Once you’re on your feet, your help would be appreciated on that front, to determine who was lost. What I can tell you is that, in addition to yourself, Bodhi Rook, Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus, and Jyn Erso survived.”

He nearly sat up at that. She leaned over to press him back. He allowed it, but his eyes were now blazing. “Where are they?”

“I relieved Mr Rook from his vigil, here, so he could get some sleep. Îmwe and Malbus were with you for a while but also need to recover from their injuries. Their prognoses are good.”

He started to ask. He stopped. He knew. If she were here, she would have been _here._ With him.

Leia said it anyway, as softly and gently as she had the power to do. “Jyn Erso lifted a shuttlecraft and departed Yavin 4. We don’t know where she is now.”

His eyes stayed open but his face turned away. His million-lightyear stare made Leia set down her datapad and sit on the cot beside him. She took his hand. He gave no indication he felt it.

“I thought she looked familiar, too, when I saw her file next to yours,” said Jyn. “I looked her up once everything… quieted. I realized I’ve met her before. Even earlier than I met you.”

Cassian’s eyes flickered. That was enough for Leia to keep going. “We were children. I was with my father. She was with Saw Gerrera. It was a… heated meeting. We never spoke but we definitely shared sympathies.”

Cassian made a slight sound. That was progress. Leia repositioned her palm under his.

“What’s going to happen?” said Cassian finally. “To us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Courtmartial? Imprisonment?”

“Skies, no. Granted, the situation would be different if your mission hadn’t led to victory. …Obviously. We wouldn’t be here to have this conversation. But it _did._ You’re heroes of the Rebellion, Captain. You saved all of us.”

Cassian finally turned his face to her, and his eyes were narrowed. She looked back as neutrally as she could, but clearly he’d caught something in her voice. _**All** of us?_

“Tell me what you haven’t,” he said.

Leia looked down at their hands. It was more familiarity than they actually shared, but it was just something, present and tangible, to focus on and attempt to ground herself so she didn’t fly apart into atoms.

_Like they—_

“I regret to inform you,” Leia said, hearing her voice still calm and even but now as if from very far away, “that before the Death Star’s annihilation, it destroyed the planet of Alderaan.”

So few syllables. So few consonents and vowels and manufactured meanings. So few.

This time, when he sat upright, she didn’t stop him. She didn’t even look up. Just continued examining their hands, measuring on the differences between them: sizes, colors, weatheredness, callouses (more on his than hers; more on hers than most would expect).His fingers finally closed around hers, back. She didn’t lift her chin; she did lift her eyes, just enough to glance at him now sitting upright to face her.

“Why are _you_ the one telling me?” he said. “You don’t need _my_ reactions to deal with, when you’re—”

“Are you telling me what to feel, mysterious man?” she quoted dryly.

He didn’t flinch. “Leia.”

War could tear apart and forge together. They didn’t need to know each other better. They knew enough of the same things about everything else.

Leia, still without quite raising her head, murmured at last, “You’re one of the only people in the Galaxy that I…

“— _ **don’t blame**._

“You and your team are the only ones who didn’t fail Alderaan. You did all you could to save it. It’s the rest of us who didn’t.”

“That isn’t true.”

“How can you know. You’ve been asleep.” She didn’t need his lack of blinking to give a conceding unsmile. “No. It’s not true. It just feels that way. It feels like _I_ failed.”

Damn his big brown eyes—She hadn’t meant to say that. _**Please** don’t tell me you sat with him in **order** to say these things to someone,_ she snarled at herself.

Whatever led up to it, he was looking back at her now. Not saying the stupid things others would. He went right to: “How?”

The sensory memory ripped through her. She expected it would for the rest of her life. All she could do was let it come and then pass. “I was their prisoner on the Death Star. They stood me on the bridge and held me in place. They gave me the choice. Give up the Rebellion or let Alderaan die.”

“They _didn’t_ give you a choice,” said Cassian. “They were always going to do it. They didn’t build it to _not_ use it. They were just tormenting you.”

She didn’t echo that he couldn’t know. Of course he knew. Her, too. “I know. It’s just different to know and to believe.”

He understood that, too. “You don’t have to stay this calm. You can let some of it out.”

“If I start, it won’t stop. Who can deal with it.”

“You can. And I can. If you want.”

“Thank you.” She finally looked him in the face. “I _don’t_ want, yet. But thank you, so much, for the offer.”

He nodded.

They were different species from each other, she’d always been able to sense, but there was one thing they had in common. They coped (or didn’t cope) with their own traumas by focusing on someone else’s. That had been his turn; now, hers.

“Speaking of offers,” she said, with the faintest (and so, true) smile. “You never came back. To ask me.”

He was too far away from that lifetime, and had probably lost too much blood, to blush. His mouth twitched like he would apologize.

“I wasn't hurt,” said Leia. “I only mention it because it’s my turn. To make the offer to you.”

He frowned, looked down, and flexed his hand. “You don’t… I… No. No, thank you, but…”

“Not sex,” said Leia, opening her hand if he still wanted to remove his after clarification. “Just company. Maybe comfort. Would you like some? Until the others wake up again? …Until she comes back?” Because Leia was positive Jyn _would._ _Just hold on. She will. I can feel it._

Cassian didn’t remove his hand.

 _The most audacious karking thing._ She thought it was worth it to ask. Leia remembered how _she’d_ needed to be held after devastations. Cassian _Jerón_ Andor didn’t have, had never had, a Breha, Bail, or Winter—not even an AT-AV. The woman he’d given everything for and the droid who’d given everything for him were both gone. So maybe, for an hour or so, or until someone better returned; maybe Leia—an _‘old friend’_ —would do.

He nodded.

Leia shifted herself back onto the pillows and he lay back into her offered arm. He didn’t press against her, but he turned toward her and leaned his head near hers. They both breathed.

“Why did she go?” he got out at last.

“I don’t know,” said Leia. “She didn’t seem to have told anyone what she was going to do.”

Eyes closed, his mouth and jaw and brow all tightened. She could feel the hurt and loss and possibly betrayal radiating through him.

“If anybody can guess,” said Leia more softly still, “it’s probably you. What would _your_ reason be?”

…At long last, the muscles of his face slackened. He murmured, “The crack in the casement. Has to be sealed. Was I dead?”

“I believe… medically… yes. They were able to revive you with bacta injections. But after she was gone.”

He nodded without opening his eyes. “I know why she went.” One of his hands crossed himself to touch hers, on his arm. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’ll come back.”

Leia risked resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I _know_ she will. But I’m sorry I’m not her.”

Cassian didn’t move away. He murmured back, “But you’re you. Thank you.”

Leia was true to her word and alerted the others. When Bodhi arrived, she yielded the space without waiting to meet Chirrut and Baze. She wouldn’t see much of any of them, including Cassian, in the years to come. But Han and Luke and Chewbacca were there to hug her and ask why she was actually crying, with joyous relief, the day she returned from Jedha and brought back Jyn Erso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT-AV, Winkie, Fluffy, Taffy, and Aunt Tia Organa are from Barbara Hambly’s EU/Legends book _Children of the Jedi_ (book one of the _Callista_ trilogy).
> 
> Winter Celchu is from Timothy Zahn’s EU/Legends _Dark Force_ aka _Thrawn_ trilogy.
> 
> Amilyn Holdo is from _Episode VIII: The Last Jedi._
> 
> Isolder _isn’t_ the character from Dave Wolverton’s EU/Legends _The Courtship of Princess Leia,_ just in honor of it.
> 
> More on the Alderaanian tradition of Day of Demand, with its Body, Mind, and Heart Challenges, and how both Leia and Breha spent theirs, on [wookieepedia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Leia_Organa%27s_Day_of_Demand)
> 
> The approach to adult-with-underage-sexual partners is definitely a risky one. I'm trying it under the auspices of Alderaan's utopian ideal, where if the best potential can be what manifests, it will; and based on the (unverifiable but widely enjoyed) theory about the Ancient Greek poet Sappho and her all-female community on the Isle of Lesbos, as possibly a place newly pubescent girls were sent to learn about sexuality from older women before coming back to the mainland to probably marry. (Gendered issues, certainly—self-knowledge as well as collaboration—but still, an approach. Though one can definitely also learn one's own anatomy with the help of an otherly-gendered partner.) (And yes, that's where the word "lesbian" comes from! Also "sapphic"! …This is how I use my Classics degree, dear friends.)


	13. 2 ABY ( + a touch of now ) (Bodhi, Cassian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #slowburndoingitwrong #nonlinear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [if you look _reeeeeeeeeeally_ carefully this was actually set up in chapter 6
> 
> but also I've just always wanted to do this trope
> 
> it is going somewhere, I promise]

Cassian came tearing through the corridor, so fast, Baze had to body-block and catch him under the arms before he torpedoed through the observation pane.

"What happened?" Cassian barked, shaking free of Baze's restraint. His eyes flickered over all of them in a way he'd proved unnervingly effective in the past, but right now not seeming to register a thing. Too quickly, he was facing the window—and her.

Chirrut delivered the story, thank goodness, because if it had been left to Bodhi, he'd have stammered too hard to get a third of it out. (Bor Gullet really getting him, today. Two years out, it still came and went.) Why did this keep happening—either Jyn or Cassian half-dead in Medical and the three of them having to hold the other one back…? (Could they ever get to _not_ block the way?)

"She's stabilized," Chirrut finished, voice calm and reassuring, even for him. "They're saying she'll probably make a full recovery."

 _"Probably…"_ Bodhi was now sure Cassian was only partway aware of the rest of them at all.

 _"Probably,"_ repeated Baze in a firm rumble, emphasizing it the way Cassian hadn't.

"Why didn't you call me?" Cassian was either asking them, the unhearing medics through the window, or Jyn herself.

"We didn't know you were back," said Baze. "Weren't you on mission? As of two hours ago?"

"Okay." Cassian didn't argue. His hands kept clenching and reopening at his sides. "Sorry. I just—"

"We know," Chirrut said. "It's all right."

Cassian may have nodded; who could tell, his whole body was taut as a wire.

At last, Bodhi managed, "Th-there shouldn't be any more to see, for a while. They sug-gested… we were just about to get some food. D-do you—?"

"Go ahead," said Cassian, not moving, barely blinking. "I'll catch up."

Baze rolled his eyes gently. "Right."

Chirrut laid a hand on Cassian's shoulder, on his way to taking Baze's arm. "We'll bring you something back."

Chirrut's hand and Baze's gaze both lightly touched on Bodhi as they passed. Bodhi hesitated, looking at Cassian. He had a feeling Cassian wanted to be alone, and had another feeling that he _shouldn't_ be.

_Suicide watch_

That wasn't the issue, now. It hadn't been for a long time. Still…

"I should have been here, Bodhi," said Cassian quietly. Deciding Bodhi, for now, to definitely stay. "I'm always somewhere else…"

Bodhi worked to control his feet, and used them to move closer to Cassian's side, behind his shoulder. "I mean… so is she, usually."

"I know. I don't know if we're _trying_ to avoid each other or…" Cassian's stare finally altered, as his eyes narrowed, he clamped his teeth on his lip, and shook his head.

"What's wrong with us?" Cassian whispered; to Bodhi, to medbay, to the unconscious Jyn.

Bodhi shuffled the slightest bit closer, stopping at the electric shock of his sleeve brushing Cassian's. "…You know, they m-made me… see someone, for a while. Right? A psych-chologist. E was interested by m…my wondering if… This, team, this…" _family?_ "…unit, we've formed. You, me, Chirrut, Baze, Jyn." _Kaytoo._ "Our whole f-foundation for sticking together… was just… two days. How does that… happen? How does it w-work? Was it because we m-managed to find each other? Or would _anyone,_ who happened to be in our places, have become… us… just for cir-…cir-…"

"Circumstance," Cassian finished softly.

"Right." Well, for the three Jedhans, _Jedha,_ was a powerful anchor. The others… Jyn and Cassian… neither alone spent as much time with the others, and were both ever together at once? With the rest of them? At all?

"What did e say?" said Cassian. "The psychologist."

"E had no answer," said Bodhi. "Of course. But… e gave me permission to ch- _choose_ what I believe. Because that's… that probably _is_ as accurate as anything c-could be. So I b-believe… if it had been others, in our place, brought together by the same cir- …accidents. That w-would be a kind of bonding. But… not the same, and doesn't account for… us. It wasn't j-just what happened to us. _We_ are drawn back to each other. In …of ourselves."

"I like to think so," said Cassian. His hands made fists and released once more, and this time, with visible effort, he kept them open. He finally broke his gaze from the med chamber just enough to glance at Bodhi—quick, distracted, still caring. "…Any reason you bring this up now?"

Bodhi was aghast that he couldn't remember. He ran back their conversation as best he… Oh. Of course. "You said: 'what's wrong with us'. We met, all of us, in m-moments of… breaking. Or _re-_ breaking." He'd given it thought. "I'm not saying we fixed each other. Or the com-b-bination of us made us whole, when we wouldn't be, apart. But I think, w-we… _relearned,_ some things. Ourselves. Other people. The universe. From one another. Luck or trauma or the f-Force or whatever… we happened to find people who… helped us. In ways we needed to see or… b-be, again." Baze and Chirrut had been bonded and accepted one another for so long, but they got to see fresh and (re-)face themselves in interaction with the others. Bodhi had been presented with as strong a complement anyone could have conjured, for his own moment of terror and loss and reinvention, in K-2SO. And— "…Especially… sorry, but… you and J-jyn."

Cassian's hands moved. For a dissociated moment, Bodhi wondered if Cassian was about to push him away. But Cassian's hands went to his own arms, knuckles whitening, like he was a grenade and he was holding in his own pin.

Tentatively, as he wouldn't dare with anyone else—it was hard enough with someone other than Baze and Chirrut—Bodhi put his hand over one of Cassian's. He wanted to say… just, something… _It's okay to need people. We need you. You can let yourself love her. That's okay too. We're glad you're alive. Can you be?_

He couldn't pick or manage any of them. But Cassian shifted his weight ever so slightly on his feet… that, without otherwise moving, he returned the pressure of Bodhi's palm.

"Thank you," said Cassian. He finally turned his eyes fully from the window, to meet Bodhi's. "Hey. You should get food, too. Really. I'm okay. …I'm better. … _Thank you."_

Bodhi nodded and let his hand fall away. It wasn't just that he'd follow Cassian's (even not worded as such) orders. He also believed him. Whatever Cassian's history of lying… as far as any of them could tell—and they would swear by Chirrut's telling—Cassian hadn't lied to them since Eadu. By omission, yes. (Though even that, he never hid anymore that he _was_ hiding something.) But never in false words. Right now, the look in Cassian's eyes was especially genuine. Bodhi almost felt hugged. He gave another tentative nod then headed away.  
  
  
  
They weren't long in the canteen before Baze's comm pinged. He flicked it on for all three to hear. "Captain?"

"She's out of Medical," Cassian said. "They had her iced for the procedure; now her core temp needs raising; I offered my quarters—they're warmer than a cot in medbay. Wanted to let you know: that's where we'll be."

 _Out_ of Medical? This soon? After the state they'd left her in? Bodhi frowned and started to open his mouth. Chirrut put a hand gently over his. Likewise, Baze's faintest hint of a smile— _Oh! Right._

"Got it," said Baze. "Thanks."

"And, Baze, you really don't have to call me 'captain' anymore."

Baze smirked such that Cassian would be able to hear it. "It's easier than your last name and fewer syllables than your first. Would you prefer a nickname we make up?"

"Captain's fine." There was some actual, faint humor in Cassian's voice. "I'll keep you updated."

"Get some rest," Chirrut said.

"You too."

Cassian switched off before anyone could say more. Bodhi and Baze exchanged a look; Cassian had been grateful none of them had said… it. As if they would. —No, dammit, they _wouldn't._ Not a moment before Jyn or Cassian, themselves.  
  


* * *

  
"We're here," Cassian whispered, slapping the wall panel to seal the door. The climate control automatically activated. Cassian hugged Jyn close to his side and kept supporting her to the bed, then lowered her painfully carefully onto it. "We should have lifted a hoverchair—"

"Dinnt wannit," Jyn murmured groggily. "Wanted… you…"

"You have me. Here… okay… Lie down."

He started to move away to grab more insulating blankets from storage, but her hand shot out and caught his.

"Cassian," she whispered, "I'm so cold"

He looked unhappily at her layers of thermal clothing. They didn't generate heat, only kept it in, and if her own core temperature wasn't rising…

"Don't make me go back," she whispered, as if sensing it through his fingers. "Please. They won't let me out again… I want to be here."

"Then we have to warm you up. Pick one: warm shower" (not a better choice but has to be her choice) "or body heat."

"Body, idiot. Why dyouthink… cmere. Cmon."

Don't breathe. Don't waste time. "Okay. I gotta grab some blankets. Can you undress yourself?"

"Kinda…"

"It's okay, do what you can, I'm right here." He ruined the perfect impersonality of his quarters by throwing open panels and leaving them open, after pulling down what he needed, not caring what else was knocked over. He set three covers over the foot of the bed where they could be pulled right up over her; the most air-retaining lowest, the densest and heaviest on top. Then he grabbed a chemical handwarmer from his emergency medpac and snapped it so it would activate. As it started warming, he turned his attention back to Jyn. She'd barely managed halfway out of her topmost layer and was starting to overbalance.

"Whoa. I got you. I got you." He caught her and re-propped her carefully to stay sitting up, so he could rapidly strip her down. _(Clinical. Solely. Can you tell, Jyn? Can you feel any of this at all?)_ It wasn't strictly procedure but he left on her underclothes. As he urged her back onto the bed, she grasped for him again, almost in panic.

"I'll join you in a sec," he said, soft and quick. "Gotta get my things off or the cold'll just be trapped in with us." (He'd been in this coat since touching down and hearing she was in med bay—and during and before the flight… it still sported snow from a differet planet.) "C'mon, I have something for your feet. …Jyn. I'm not leaving. Trust me."

Her fingers loosened. "I do." She let him lay her back, tuck the chem. warmer around her toes, and pull up the blankets in their plotted order. Then, fast and efficient as he could, to not keep her waiting, not let his skin chill, not let himself think, he tore off his own clothes—also save undershorts—and slipped under the blankets beside her; tucking, cocooning, sealing them in. He took her in his arms and folded her into him, pressing as much of their skin together as they could.

"The warmer still on your feet?" he asked into her hair.

"Tingles," she confirmed.

"Good. Okay. …Okay. …Match your breathing to mine."

That wasn't necessary. Just… ritual. Clinical. Focus.

Nothing else was going to happen tonight. That wasn't it. It was… he knew, it didn't take a whole night to get _used_ to this.

It took so much less.

(It was already done.)

They lay quiet, breathing steadily except when she shivered, but the shivering was diminishing. Body heat amplified, in combination, exponentially, and the blankets kept it all in. Cassian was even starting to sweat. He preferred being too cold to too hot—maybe his unremembered Festrin mother's legacy—and, under normal circumstances, this would be claustrophobically stifling. It wasn't, right now. Right now, all he cared about was the steadying, strengthening, and relaxing—melting _—_ of every part of Jyn, fiber by fiber, warming and sinking impossibly deeper into him.

"There's nowhere I need to be," Cassian murmured into her hair. It was the last thing he intended to say tonight. "We'll stay here as long as you need."

Jyn moved her cheek a little on his skin. Her hand twitched where he had it clasped—so he released it, and she immediately dragged her fingers on his chest, then curled them back around his hand.

"Thank you," she murmured. "For trusting me."

"Me trusting you?" He was sure she wasn't fully awake.

"Yes," she said softly. "Trusting me… to believe. To know. Why you're doing this… isn't ulterior."

"God…! no. Jyn, n—"

"I know," she whispered, a smile curving her lips against his skin and subtly, star-swingingly changing her voice. "That's what I'm saying. I know. I knew already. Now I also know something new."

"You don't have to tal—"

"Shuttup," she murmured relaxedly. "I knew you'd do anything to help me. Things you wouldn't want. Now I know… you'd do something more dangerous. You'd do what you're afraid you _do_ want."

…

Was this the lingering drugs and shock to her system talking or…?

He was sure she was in an altered state of conscious and wouldn't remember this. He was already bracing himself for a moment when she'd start awake in shock, outrage or horror, with no memory of how they'd got in this position; proving he shouldn't have accepted this compromised consent, caved to that plea, shouldn't have busted her out of Medical no matter what she'd said to him and sounded like and the look in her eyes…

But the idea of her not remembering…

 _"I want you to be okay,"_ said Cassian into her skin. "Whether or not you're with me. That's what's important. What I care about."

He could swear, even if it was definitely him projecting, that she _waited._

His voice was… not even a voice, now, just cracking and air: "…But also… if it _can_ be with me."

Her lashes brushed his throat like a kiss. She hooked her leg over his, squeezed him there and his hand with hers, and said something unintelligible. And that was it for the rest of the night.  
  
  
  
He woke every few hours, subconscious programmed, to keep checking on her. (With the spells of sleep, in between, deeper and more mercifully dreamless than anything he'd had in years.) Her breathing stayed steady and deep, her toes twitched without delay when he tested them with his, and her body stayed warm and loose in his arms, without chill, fear, or anger.

When he finally stirred and whispered that he was going to get them some food, she nodded, seeming thoroughly contented.

He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when he returned and found her gone.  
  


* * *  
  


> _(I'm never going to bring it up first) _

  
They lay in bed, facing each other, her head tucked under his chin, his arm tucked under her neck, feeling each other's breath on them, and broke the rule.

"Do you remember when you nearly overdosed and I stayed in your room all night?"

"Do you remember when you had hypothermia and you stayed in my room all night?"

"…Those were two different times?"

"…I thought they were…"

"Yeah."

"I just wanted you to be okay.

"I want you to be okay."

"I am. My most. With you."


	14. 4 ABY's heat-death supernova entropic cataclysm (Bodhi, Jyn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ **CW: HEARTBREAK, cw: terminal illness,** BUT I FUCKIN PROMISE… HANG IN THERE…
> 
> SPOILER alert: this chapter revolves around a bad diagnosis, incl. life expectancy, and the impact on loved ones. If this is not what you want to be clobbered with, especially given our real-world situation, please skip this chapter. I'll label each as we proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At risk of further spoiling the momentum and the tension and the mood and whatever else: THIS IS **NOT** THE LAST CHAPTER, THIS IS **NOT** THE ENDING, AND THIS STORY IS **NOT** A TRAGEDY. I PROMISE, I wouldn't spring that on you guys without fair warning from the beginning, and frankly I'd ruin everything leading to now for _myself,_ as well, if it just turned out to be _this_. When this whole ending sequence sprang itself on me, I felt like I'd lost my fucking mind, but I think it's going to work and I promise, hopefully without making light or doing a disservice to this terrible kind of situation, nonetheless, this is not the end.
> 
> Also, NO INTENTIONAL relevance to current events, though of course I can't deny they've surely affected my thoughts. But… I truly think, or I wouldn't risk the insensitivity, that this will all prove the logical culmination, thematically and causally, of everything leading here.

"Why isn't Cassian better?" said Kaytoo.

Bodhi nearly dropped his fork. Now that Kaytoo had a protocol droid's body, with much lighter footfalls, he was better at approaching unnoticed. It was still a shock to see him suddenly looming over them.

Bodhi had dragged Jyn to mess-hall with him; one of her first departures from Cassian's quarters in… a while. While in some ways she seemed calmer and happier, attending to him day and night… Bodhi also looked at her now, as she raised her face to Kaytoo in the harsh light, and was shocked at how shadowed her eyes were, and how gaunt her face seemed.

"Well, Kay," said Jyn, just barely not-infuriated, "either Affliceria or pulmonary infection, on their own, are very treatable; but together—"

"The treatment for one can exacerbate the other, I know," said Kaytoo impatiently. "I understand it better than you do."

Jyn glowered. "Good. Then you should be able to answer your own question."

"That makes recuperation slow," said Kaytoo. "Not _cease_. It's in degrees too subtle for organic perception, but Cassian's state flatlined a week ago. I was waiting the requisite interval before calling it to your attention. But as of my visit concluding four-point-three minutes ago, I believe he may be beginning a downturn."

Bodhi suddenly didn't want the rest of his meal. "What has Medical said?"

Jyn was still and unreadable, the way she or Baze or Cassian, the soldiers, got in the face of… "He hates it there," she said, alarmingly affectless "He never wants to go back or check in—"

"So you've been attempting to conduct his follow-ups yourself?" said Kaytoo.

With a burst of protectiveness for Jyn, Bodhi reached over to put a hand on Kay's arm. (He didn't have sensors there, but he _and_ Jyn would see the warning.) "Jyn's been doing more for Cassian than—"

"—than anyone else could or Cassian would do for himself," said Kaytoo. "Yes, that's 98% certain. His usual state of lacking or avoiding support is counteracted by her. Even the care he would accept from me is inferior and I am the only alternative he would cooperate with. Jyn's created a steeply and unprecedentedly more healthy situation."

Jyn looked openly astonished. "…Um… tha…nks…?" But her shoulders were still braced for impact.

Which Kaytoo provided. "But optimizing a situation is not the same as solving it. This backup is not of my base program. It is the revised and evolved programming by and for Cassian, including functions never intended for a security unit—such as medical support. It is minimal but sufficient to conclude that his condition is outside diagnosed parameters and threatening to degrade and we should take him to medbay immediately."

The set of Jyn's mouth and jaw looked as they had when Bodhi first met her: hostile, hairtrigger, mid-catastrophe.

But she nodded. "It'll take both of us."

"Obviously," said Kay. "Let's go."

"Let her finish her—" started Bodhi.

"It's okay." Jyn slid her abandoned food to Bodhi. "I'm not hungry. Stay on call, if we need more help?"

Bodhi couldn't imagine providing anything beyond what Jyn and Kay had covered. But of course he nodded, and briefly gripped her hand. She returned it before slipping free and falling in step with Kaytoo. Their retreating paired silhouettes normally would seen cute or funny, to watch… but Bodhi, after a pleasant morning, now just felt dread.

He watched them leave. Then he shoved his and Jyn's unfinished food into a preservation loc, and was comm'ing Chirrut before he'd made it out of the hall.  
  


* * *  
  


Jyn slipped her hand gently between Cassian's face and the pillow. She curled her fingertips into his hair, her thumb tracing the rise of his cheek, her palm sealing along the hinge of his jaw. She'd never done this in front of anyone, (…yet?) and would have thought it would be especially appalling for that "anyone" to be Kaytoo; but his stillness and silence, not even breathing, let her, for a moment, eliminate him utterly from her senses; focus only on kissing Cassian awake.

It was something she'd never thought he'd want, and he'd been _so_ careful with roles reversed—one can't give consent while asleep, and he _never_ considered consent something that could be presumed, no matter how often it may have been given before. Just for this, they'd made the exception. They'd found they both felt comfortable (even comforted) being woken this way, and loved the feeling of the other person waking up and taking over. Deepening or changing it required consciously checking in, but feeling his mouth go from unresponsive to softly claiming hers, back, was so…

Jyn tilted her head to break that contact while keeping her forehead against his. And tried this time to hold onto the feeling of the kiss, rather than let the tension seep over her face at the fact that… again… as usual… lately every moment he wasn't interacting with her… he'd been deep asleep. Like he'd been deprived; not like he was spending most of every day in the same state.

"What's wrong?" Cassian murmured, more air than sound against her. She'd failed re: the tension thing.

"Kaytoo's here," Jyn breathed back. "We're taking you to Medical."

She felt Cassian's frown against her own forehead. "Why?"

"He's been monitoring your condition." The words were thick in her tight throat. "He's concerned. …And I agree."

If Cassian was ever going to resist, the power of Jyn siding with Kay would always silence opposition.

"I'm never gonna win against both of you," Cassian said, with the humor of protectiveness for her. _(Pfassk, it Cassian, be worried about_ ** _yourself_** _half as much as you attend to_ ** _me_** _…)_

"Not even one," came Kaytoo's voice from across the room.

Jyn sat back so Cassian could prop himself up. The shift of his shoulders to hold his own weight doubled as a shrug. "Okay. Let's go."  
  


* * *  
  


"So _what?!"_ Jyn shouted through clenched teeth. She wanted more than anything to seize the medic by the collar and start swinging them into walls until they made sense.

"I'm sorry," the medic attempted to deescalate, "but like I said… Captain Andor forbid me from telling you." This time, though, they managed to add the vital piece of information: "He said he wants to tell you, himself."

That was the most fucking petrifying thing Jyn had heard since… since…

_lyra hitting the ground bombs hitting the platform cassian hitting the girder_

"He's free to return to his quarters," said the medic. "Do you want assistance taking him there, or—?"

"We've got it," Jyn snapped, maybe including Kaytoo and the others who'd come to join them, or just her and Cassian. _('_ _Her and Cassian'… was that going to prove another cosmic joke…)_

The medic nodded in what was meant to be a completely calm manner. "We'll bring him out to you. Please wait." And retreated.

Jyn's hand shook from its grip on the crystal. _The strongest stars…_ At least she knew her knuckles would crack before the kyber would. _Damn you, Kay… you were supposed to be overprotective… prone to fatalism… worried for nothing…_ Instead they'd now been sitting out here while testing had stretched into hours, and she wasn't sure anymore if she was supposed to hide her raging panic from the others or not…

It seemed quick, at least, this time, that the door opened again and Cassian appeared in a hoverchair—which he immediately stood from, obviously hating they'd seen him in it at all.

"Capta—" the medic started.

"It's fine," Bodhi said at once, as Kay took ahold of Cassian's arm, and Baze moved to his other side. "We've got him."

Cassian seemed okay on the walk, but he never shook free from the others' assistance. He even took it at last sitting back on his bed. At which point he just shot Baze a look, and Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi all took their leave.

"Kay," said Cassian softly, "can you give me and Jyn a minute?"

_Fuck. No. Fuck. What… no no no._

If Kaytoo was furious as Jyn would be, at being dismissed, when _he_ was the one who'd known Cassian first, had a lifelong mission of protecting him, had literally been destroyed to keep him alive that little bit longer… …well, no, Kay wouldn't hide it, nor would the reaction be a hard one to interpret on him. But… maybe… there were things Kay and Cassian had already accepted between them, had from the start, that…

_No—!_

"I'll be outside," said Kay only. Without a look or word further before he stepped through the door, into a guarding stance, and sealed it behind him.

Jyn instantly crossed the room away from Cassian. She theoretically had aimed for the data terminal, but couldn't even pretend. Just clamped her hands on her own biceps and staring at the wall.

"No," she said before Cassian could say a word. "No. Whatever you're about to say. _No."_

…Damn him… damn him so bad… he said, "Okay."

And didn't say anything.

Until Jyn was shaking too hard to hold herself in and her glare at the wall hadn't pierced a hole in it, or in reality, only in her own mask, and she felt herself trembling and eyes tearing like she hadn't, like they hadn't, since hearing Galen's message in Saw's Cadera, and fuck it, _not_ hearing it was just worse. She almost turned to face him.

"Okay," she whispered. "Go."  
  
_If it's not too late, I want to be yours.  
__What would that entail, exactly?  
__We can find out. My only rule: if you have to leave, tell me. Outright. Immediately. Don't make promises you can't keep, and don't make me wonder or wait. And whyever you have to, it better not be to protect me.  
__No. Not to protect you. That doesn't work._

 _Reality won't be kinder.  
  
_Even Cassian couldn't just cut to bottom line. And… probably she did need all of it. Hopefully her brain did catch and store it even as her senses kept blacking out. She hated the terminology. Stuff like _thoracotomy_ and _lobectomy_ and _pulmonary arterial—_ wait, those were going together now…? and…

"Stop," she gasped, closing her eyes against the bruise-spots of inverted light exploding in her sight. "Just… please."

She half-saw him closing his eyes, too. Like… just knowing it, for himself, hadn't been the bad part. This, now, telling her, was the bad part.

_Because of course, neither of us fears our_ **_own_ ** _death… we fear…_

"This is as good as I'm going to get," he said. "I'm never going to be in fighting shape again. No more running through cities, with you."

A breath burst out of her that was almost a sob, and, feeling delirious, she turned and went to him, sitting on the edge of his bed and seizing his hand. "Fine! That's fine! You're… You can be… kind of relieved, right? You didn't know if you _could_ stop fighting. Now, you _can._ You won't have to feel like you're letting anyone down. It's just how it is. Retire. That's _earned._ That's _fine._ And running together… fuck, Cassian… it wouldn't matter to me anyway but, gods, I'm so tired of running. I've been tired for years. I don't care if we never run again. I've wanted to stop for so long. I want to stay _still_ with you. For the rest of our lives."

Oh gods why did she say those last four words. Why why why why hadn't she left that off, let the rest be the end of it, could it be that if she hadn't would it change the next thing…

His eyes dropped from her face and squeezed shut, tighter… as his hand spasmed like it wanted to take firmer hold of hers but wouldn't. _Won't confine. …Won't try to keep_

"Yeah," he whispered. "Jyn. That's…"

She lost all her air and crumpled over, pressing her face to his chest and neck, shaking her head. "No. Please. Please."

She put her arms around him like she could hold him there against anything. His arms came around her, too… but again… too lightly. Leaving her the freedom to slip away.

_I don't want that anymore don't you know I don't not from you please no_

"The 'rest of my life'… Fuck. I wanted to give that to you. So badly to… thinking it would be more."  
  
_No_

"I didn't… I… um." _Breath._ "Outliving the war… wasn't… _fuck."_ Breath. "Hey. I did it. But I guess… it's like I used too much up, giving to it… Jyn, I never wanted to be another person, who did it to you, again…"

"No," Jyn whispered.

"It was really too much, to hope that we could actually… grow _old_ toge—"

"Stop," Jyn gasped. She sat upright, eyes fiercely closed. Her hands still clasped his shoulders, hanging on against a fall.

He moved one of his to fold softly over hers.

"I don't want you to stay around for it," he said quietly. "After all you've—"

"What are we talking?" Jyn demanded, not opening her eyes, feeling the familiar hardness and blankness descend on her face. "How long?"

"Probably a year."

"Fine." She shrugged, her fingers digging into him harder. "You've beaten so many odds." _So maybe I've used that up,_ she could _feel_ him thinking, but didn't let him say it. "No. Fuck that. Whatever. That's more than many get. Who knows if we'd get more than that anyway. This fucking universe. I'll take it. You hear me? I'm taking it. I'm not giving you up just 'cause I can't have you forever. I've learned that fucking lesson, over and over. I'm not stupid enough to forget it now just 'cause it's you. And _you—"_

She opened her eyes, to be immediately pierced by his. She didn't recoil but leaned _in,_ taking his cheek again in her palm and putting her face above his.

"— _you_ are not ' _doing it_ _to me'_ ," she growled intently. "Got that? This is happening to you, not a choice you're making, and you are not choosing how it affects me. _I_ am. You are not to waste a second of your strength and our time by second-guessing _me_ and worrying you're doing something wrong. Because then I'll take it out of everyone's hands and just fucking kill you. Got it? And I'm not running away to spare myself because it's too fucking late you fucking asshole. So get over yourself and hold me. _Now."_

Unconvinced but unresisting, he folded his arms around her, and she sank into him and he sealed to her and they lay still, heat and strength and the Force flowing from one to the other and back again, like it was inexhaustible, listening to the breath and heartbeats for as long as they could sound strong and steady, whether the beginning hints of a falter was really there yet or not. _I am not leaving you. I will never choose to leave you. I'm … I…_

She felt when he was struggling to stay conscious. She kissed him and put back his head and told him to sleep. And _Force,_ he didn't want to. He didn't want to leave her even like this. But she said, "I need air. I'm going outside. You do whatever you have to until I come back." And he knew better than to try to stop her. Though his eyes were still open when she sealed the door behind her.

She passed Kaytoo without a word, knowing he'd heard everything through the wall. She didn't look to see if Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze had been hanging around nearby too, or if what happened next was because Kaytoo would call them. She ignored everyone and everything and just found her half-automatic, half-conscious, all-clawed way to the outside air; to the ~~Rebel~~ Alliance base dissolving and falling away from around her and it was only her standing on the skin of a planet that spun through space and the tiniest bit of it that looked like infinity around and above her, of the sky. The stars were lacerating, piercing the dark, even from behind the lightest drifting clouds that fucking dared to mist her with rain.

She stood still, eyes closed to the stars, face up to the water.

And she screamed.

She screamed and screamed and kept screaming. Until they were suddenly there with her, holding her as she fell to her knees, screaming and sobbing and beating them and herself and the ground. Baze had her shoulders, Bodhi her back, Chirrut's forehead touching hers. And Jyn belatedly heard her own sobs from a great distance and made out the words in them: _"Don't let me run don't let me run don't let me run"_

They knelt with her in the mud and rain until she curled over onto herself and her screaming broke into wept words— _"I can't again I can't do it I can't I can't not him please please Mama why why did you lie god please"_

She finally ran empty. Then they just held on, enclosing and enfolding her, until she knew she would no longer detonate to destroy the world.

They took her inside. Jyn barely opened her eyes, couldn't feel her hands or feet, felt her legs as rippling water; sat wherever they placed her and distantly recognized what was happening next as them washing the mud from her face and hands and knees, wiping it from her everywhere else, even wringing it from her hair.

And she whispered finally in a voice hoarse and cracked, "I can't let him know. He'll think it's his fault. I can't be like this."

Chirrut touched her face so she _saw_ his without opening her eyes. He said, "You don't want _him_ to protect you from himself. You know it doesn't work. So. Don't do it, either."  
  


* * *  
  


They helped her walk there again. To Kaytoo who hadn't left the door and probably never would again, but who actually held out a metal hand to her, and she placed her flesh and bone one upon it. And for a moment, they actually just held onto each other.

At last, they all dropped away so it was only her own choice whether to open the door. She did. She went in. She closed it behind her. Cassian lay unnaturally still, now facing the wall, away from her. She went to the bed and lay down behind him, pressing her front to his back, her face into his hair, holding him so tight.

And immediately, against all her intentions and past and physical ability, started sobbing again. She felt it ride through him, curving him over onto himself, not away from her but over their clasped hands like it was a kind of protection…

"I'm sorry," said one of them in an unrecognizable voice and she honestly couldn't tell if he'd said it or she had.

She knew it was her, though, when her sobs became another gulping, gasping chant: _"I love you I love you so much"_

Like they always had. All they could do was hold on to each other against the wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"My only rule: if you have to leave, tell me. Outright. Immediately. Don't make promises you can't keep, and don't make me wonder or wait. And whyever you have to, it better not be to protect me."_ — this is said in _Silver in Your Dark Hair,_ presented here as if they've also said it here… sorry for the cheat. There are things that have passed between them in this fic "offscreen" that… While I've definitely riffed off and expanded stuff from that fic in this one, I've been trying (kinda) to not repeat full exact scenes/conversations that are already in that one, even if, in my brain, they would transcend the AU to happen here, as well.


	15. 5 ABY (Leia, K-2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ cw: ptsd, cw: child ptsd, cw: terminal illness, cw: poor prognosis, cw: suicidal ideation, (distinct from but set alongside,) cw: grief, cw: mourning, cw: intellectualizing loss, cw: end-of-life discussion, cw: right-to-die discussion, cw: idea of "being a burden", cw: misuse of science for themes, cw: misuse of characters for concepts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rogue One: _still_ retconning Saga since 2016…!  
> Guided always by Grand Master Zahn: deep-diving into things not intended/designed for deep dives, just to see if it's possible.  
> This is the chapter of _**Why am I doing this to myself?!?**_ Hopefully it doesn't read entirely like an academic paper and does have some characterizations in it.
> 
> STILL NOT THE END, STILL NOT A TRAGEDY. <3

Leia looked out at the world.

The drab landscape rolled under a perpetual light rain. It matched her mood. _(Fuck you,)_ she thought, coldly, pointlessly, to the… universe? _(Why would you?)_ Maybe. _(I mean…)_ The Force? _(How dare you?)_ Yes, the Force. ( _You cunt.)_

One might think losing one's _planet_ would numb other tragedies. She found it… better, that it didn't. She never _wanted_ to feel pain, but there was some… hope, maybe, to be found in discovering that, not just in theory but _truly,_ after enough to prove it: she still chose it over the alternative. Sometimes pain was the… only… _connecting_ response.

She heard a droid's footfalls. _Threepio?_ Drawing focus back from the window; she could tell these steps were heavier, stride longer than Threepio's. Mainly, they were just more… _assertive_. She looked up as they stopped. "K-2SO? It's good to meet you."

"I suppose this _is_ our first direct interaction," said K-2SO. "Though our presences intersected in 3274 LY / 3 BBY, on—"

"—Alderaan," Leia finished. She needed to say it every time. No matter how strong her reflex to recoil from the pain; (as above…) instead, she grabbed the pain, circled it in both arms, and hugged it to its matching hole in her chest. Even—especially—the hole the size of a planet. Fleeing the pain meant fleeing _them_ and she would hold onto them with the rest of her life. "Yes, I remember. Did you come to speak to me?" There wasn't much else at this outlook.

"I did."

"What can I do for you?"

He didn't preamble. "Over the past two years, Luke Skywalker has input fourteen works of restoration and annotation of Jedi history and lore to several Alliance caches."

If Leia had had to guess what Kay might say to her… this wouldn't have been it.

"With relevance to associates," Kay said on, "I had previously integrated material on the Church of the Force and the Guardians of the Whills. Cross-referencing all of the above, I found details for further examination. Luke Skywalker lacks the existing connection, so I decided to start with you."

…Oh dear. "Start what?"

"Petitioning for practical research on medical applications of the Force."

Outside, the rain had changed direction.

"What do you mean?" said Leia. What else could he be getting at…? but this was a line of thinking one expected to hear from… from… Well: _not_ from a _droid_. It never proved logical.

"I should think it self-evident," said Kaytoo.

The ghosts of her aunts expostulated on the droid's rudeness. Leia was more worried about her own response. "Force healing."

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"Is it real?"

"I…'d assumed, not. Truthfully, I don't know. But if it ever _was_ , Kay… Luke is the only Jedi now and he says there's so much he never learned. It might be an art that was lost with the old Jedi."

"It wasn't there to lose," said Kaytoo. "The Jedi did not practice it. The closest they came to addressing it was to denunciate pursuing immortality. They called it 'unnatural' and 'a path to the Dark Side'. However, others criticised the Jedi for such rejection."  
  
"Others like the Sith?" Leia said with soft pointedness.

"Including but not limited to," said Kaytoo. "The Guardians of the Whills, for example, debate that the Force even _can_ be dichotomised into 'Dark' and 'Light'. The Church of the Force likewise questions the Jedi and Sith alike for dealing only in extremes. There is fragmentary data on what might have been an order called _'Grey Jedi',_ though I have yet to find—"

"I think I got it," said Leia, succeeding in sounding gentle rather than impatient. (She'd had practice with Threepio.) "But if the Jedi didn't practice it…?"

Kay didn't miss a beat. "Behaviour isn't addressed if no one's done it. Alderaanian law prohibited theft of property; it did not prohibit theft of photons. Speeder traffic laws were created on Tatooine only after colonists introduced speeder technology. Codru-Ji rules of etiquette specify proper uses of the third and fourth hands, while Human rules of etiquette do not."

"So the Jedi objecting to it is evidence that someone was doing it," Leia agreed, in part to cut him off. "Sure. But then… across all the time and space, planets and peoples they spanned, they _barely_ mentioned it. Doesn't that suggest there was very little cause to do so—in terms of occurrence?"

"Yes, to that level of public awareness. Healing abilities have been associated with Force practitioners for as long as there are narratives, but practitioners other than the Jedi were differently categorised. 81% of _all_ reported abilities, not just healing, are dismissed as superstition or charlatanism. Extremes are simpler, and as such dominate general awareness, even as they constitute a minimal percentage of a continuous spectrum. This applies both to Sith and Jedi having infamy but Guardians and Church, obscurity; _and_ to the Sith only addressing full immortality and the Jedi banning the subject entirely."

He paused like he wanted to make sure Leia was following him. Which, to be fair, was worth checking. Leia hazarded, "So, what's the rest of the spectrum?"

If she could possibly interpret a featureless headtilt correctly, she thought Kay might be… (maybe deservedly condescendingly…) pleased with her. "As of two hours ago, I have analysed 342 references to Guardians and Clergy using the Force to heal in ways that do not remotely approach 'immortality' but definitively exceed 'not at all'. Two thirds of the accounts might be explained as metaphor. One fourth might be explained as superstition distorting or supplanting nonmystical knowledge. 0.083333-(repeating) of the accounts are so specific in graphic and technical detail that falsification becomes _less_ probable, by a magnitude of—"

"Can you send me your research directly?" interrupted Leia. If she were talking to an organic, Leia would have to challenge the very use of the word ' _research'._ Less technical minds tended to mean any number of things by it—emotional, figurative, or otherwise unconforming to standardized qualification. But this was a droid. Specifically, _this_ droid: programmed for accuracy analysis and reprogrammed (if unintentionally) to be especially literal. If Kay said he'd researched, then he'd researched. She wouldn't dismiss what he suggested. Then, to properly consider it, _her_ comprehension would be insufficient to receive or retain anything she simply _heard_.

If she wasn't just projecting, Kaytoo seemed… to be having an emotion. She just couldn't tell which. He tapped open a storage compartment in his torso, to remove and hand her a datacard. "Will you discuss this with Jedi Skywalker?"

Leia's expression fell. "Even if I do," she said, gently reluctant, "Cassian's prognosis—"

"I understand it better than any of you do," said Kaytoo. "Will you discuss this with Jedi Skywalker?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, Kay. Of course. I just don't know if I can promise what will come of it."

"No one can be certain what is _yet_ to happen," said Kay. "Not even a droid." 

_Nor a Jedi._

* * *

Luke's frown looked like it had that time someone suggested replacing Artoo with a newer model. In a way, it made him look younger, again. (More like… his actual age, if not for Vader and the Emperor.) "He got this from _where?"_

"Your uploads and commentaries, cross-referenced with, quote, 'sources on the Church of the Force and the Guardians of the Whills'," said Leia. "Presumably better than just holonet, since he has access to two real, living Guardians."

Luke's fingers fidgeted like they were trying to untie something. "I… feel like I would have heard of it. Ben or Yoda would have mentioned … But, of course, there was an awful lot, even on very relevant fronts, that they didn't."

Luke had moved beyond sounding _bitter,_ which was impressive; but Leia (and probably only she) could still hear the sliver of injury. "—You said Yoda was nine-hundred years old?" she said, propelling forward. "Are we sure that's a matter of species and not of Force… uh… augmentation?"

"The point is, Leia," said Luke, with gentleness directed at her and aggravation directed everywhere else, "I'm not sure of almost _anything._ …Except that the Force is real; not passively, not metaphorically, and it _can_ have practical… physical application. I also know, whether Kaytoo's sources all think so or not, that the Dark and the Light are real. And… frankly… using the Force to cheat death is definitely a Dark thing. …I did read something about that: A Sith lord's experiments on immortality, put alongside questions of reincarnation and applications to cloning. And, yeah, it was widely called 'unnatural'."  
  
Leia rolled her eyes. "What do people mean by _natural?_ As far as I've found, _natural_ means 'it existed when I was a kid'. And _unnatural_ is 'invented since I grew up'."

She succeeded in making Luke laugh. That felt good. It held even as he turned thoughtful again. "Maybe… emotionally? Trying to hang onto one's life past all limits… That's probably fueled by greed. —or, likelier, _fear._ Rejection, resistance to, the unknown, and to pain. Those motives are corrosive, because 'unknown' _is_ the most 'natural' of all conditions, and pain, in the end, cannot be refused, suppressed, or fled. Hence: 'unnatural', corruptive, Dark side. _Not knowing_ can only be improved by facing it, not denying it; and pain can only be endured and hopefully accepted—healing, constructive, Light side. So… yeah. Pretty clear in the Jedi Code."

Leia bit her lip, gazing at nothing.

"But the Jedi Code is not the only way to the Force," said Leia, a bit gingerly.

Luke didn't wince. There didn't seem to be defensiveness in how he said it. On the other hand, definite gravity: "It's not. It's just a way to prevent _misusing_ it. Or being misused in pursuit of it. It's like… the scientific method, against cognitive bias. We have our subjective defaults that distort the greater reality we seek. So we make a counter to them. That protection _is_ needed."

"Yes," agreed Leia quickly. "But… there might be other methods, right?"

"Of course. Just not necessarily ones that endured."

"Is that because the Jedi Code was the best? Or got the most traction for some other reason?"

"I'm not sure how we could learn that, now."

Leia had entwined her own fingers. She flexed them, fanning them out at right angles to each other. "Setting aside the Force, for a moment… It's a common pattern. When a thing becomes ritualized, it can become… abstracted. The reasons it _became_ a ritual get forgotten, and it's perpetuated only _because_ of its ritual status. Without its grounding, it can get twisted and degrade."

Luke said, "You can just say it."

Leia bit her lip deeper, squared her shoulders, and turned on him. "What we know for certain of the last wave of Jedi, in living memory and most verifiable record, is… not so flattering."

To her vast relief, Luke _nodded._ "I know. They were being misplaced in functions they weren't intended for, which was itself an act of distortion and manipulation, but they were vulnerable to it 'cause their _own_ ideas—of themselves—were… warped, and… detached. Too focused on their own _legend_ rather than what they might actually _do."_

Leia exhaled slowly. She even tried a smile. "…So presumably, you're not just going to try to revive what they were. Not without… a bit, perhaps, of… revision."

Luke's brow darkened again. "…Y…es? And… no. One of their worst failings was _pride._ I mustn't let myself fall prey to the same thing by assuming _I_ can do better. That I alone am fit to judge."

"Except you're not. — _'assuming'_ that role. You didn't seize this position; you accepted the burden. In service of others."

He grimaced. "I hope that makes a difference."

"It must," said Leia. "It _does._ Even when the Force isn't an active variable, maybe even moreso when it is. …So what if the same difference can be applied to the other issue?"

"You're losing me."

"According to Kaytoo's notes, the actual Jedi stricture was against 'Force manipulation of one's own life energy'. One's _own._ So… using the Force to postpone death, prolong health, yes, Dark-leaning—for _oneself._ But what about _giving_ it to someone else? Could one person… donate… channel… give of their own life… energy, essence, we'll figure out the wording if it works. But willingly give of their own for another?"

Luke raised an eyebrow—" …'if it _works'?_ "

Leia compressed her mouth, raising an answering eyebrow, and shrugged.

"You're talking about trying this," said Luke. "Not just researching."

"What research would _we_ do, more complete than a droid's?" said Leia. "Do you have more material he didn't have access to?"

"Not yet… We still agree, right? You're gonna tell me when you think I've done what I can for the next phase of the New Republic. Then I'm going to start my quest."

"To seek other Force-adepts, I thought."

"Yes, but also texts or lore or artifacts. I _know_ some are out there."

Leia ached behind her eyes. "Our friend doesn't have that long."

Luke frowned again, this time with unhappy sympathy. …And a new kind of troubled look. "We don't know the _risks,_ Leia. I can't say 'okay, let's experiment, why not' because… because… just _imagine,_ with me. If this is possible, why _didn't_ the Jedi do it? Why weren't there Jedi healers in every hospital? Why weren't injury and illness just eliminated?"

Okay… " 'Possible' doesn't mean 'limitless'," said Leia.

"In which case," said Luke, looking even more unhappy, "how to adhere… apply… ormaybe _choose_ , the limits? How can it possibly be fair? How dare those capable preserve themselves without attempting to save others?"

Leia sharply shook her head. "No… no. The most self-sacrificing soldier—" (like, y'know, _Cassian)_ "—agree self-preservation is not selfish. Even in pure pragmatism: how can you continue to give to others if you deplete yourself? It can sometimes _feel_ more generous to give everything at once, but that's usually more emotional than mathematic… the sum total of one's service takes a longer view. Almost always, we can give more over our lifetimes than in one instant."

Luke looked unconvinced. "But if the risk—the cost—isn't one's life… We say it so easily: _falling to the Dark Side._ I probably don't need to say this—"

 _(Which, of course,_ thought Leia with sad fondness, _means you_ ** _do_** _, to_ ** _yourself_** _.)_

"—but that's also not self-serving to avoid. It's such a risk is because it _can_ just… _happen._ It's like how entropy is what's happening without the active application of energy to counter it. The Dark Side is fed by our most immediate instincts, without our application of care. Falling to it means adding to what needs no help. It can never be defeated. Only continuously fought."

"How would this _not_ be fighting entropy?" Leia demanded, frowning hard, wary of misunderstanding due to her own conflicted feelings about the Jedi and the Force. (Which was itself probably part of his point, which in turned annoyed the kark out of her.)

"Death isn't necessarily part of entropy?" said Luke warily. "Entropy is chaos. Death is part of the order of things."

Leia didn't hide a scowl and waved a hand. "I don't think that's the perspective of a molecular physicist, but I think we're veering off course."

"Okay," said Luke. "How about this: you suggested the model of a recipient and a donor, right? What if the Force essence, energy, whatever, behaves like a blood donation? Is there anything like _typing?_ Is there risk of rejection or further injury if mismatched? Is there danger of depleting the donor? Is it something monitored during the process or set in advance? And where it _isn't_ like blood—what else is carried by 'life essence' beyond physical health? Are safeguards needed to ensure person receiving the donation isn't… _changed_ by it? Would they become less themselves and instead be part… other? Is there lingering psychic linkage between the donor and the receiver? What does that entail?  
  
"And before any of _that,_ what are the mechanics? Would either or both participants have to be Force practitioners? Or better for them _not_ to be? But if a third party has to be involved—the donor, the receiver, and the Force conductor—what effects or costs must _they_ face…? And in order to accomplish this, how much technical, medical knowledge do they need? Do they have to understand specifically what they're doing, like a surgeon? 'I'm sending this much Force to move this tendon to move this bone to ease pressure on this organ while elevating this chemical…' Or is it sufficient to just _send_ energy, go by feelings alone, leaving it to the recipient's body to craft the specifics…?

"And the bottom line for you and I, right now: how do we ethically experiment with any of this?"

Leia breathed deeply through her nose, letting her focus soften and let go of her frustration. (It wasn't meant for Luke, anyway. It was for the universe, but the universe was not who'd feel the sting of it.) "Thing is," she said softly; "you're not wrong, but… by the end, there, even _I_ started wondering if we might not be getting too… conceptual, with this. What if it _is_ just—instinctive? Force… conducting? manipulation? practice? What should I call it?"

Luke spread his hands.

"Usage," Leia settled for. "I know it takes discipline, deliberation, technique. But… weren't youtold, directly, repeatedly, to _trust your feelings?"_

Luke didn't grit his teeth, but a muscle in his jaw definitely jumped. "Yes. No matter how much experience you get. It never stops. The uncertainty. The ambiguities. The mistakes and misinterpretations… The… tangle. When to trust feelings and when to resist them, tell if they're wisdom or temptation, guidance or downfall… It seems like _'Master'_ is just what you're called if you've survived navigating it for a certain amount of time. You never actually graduate from it."

"I hear you. But—" Leia grabbed his hand in both of hers. "You said the Force flows strong in our family. In me, too. I don't know enough—probably _anything—_ about the Force, but I do have some knowledge on applying discernment to the metaphysical. Interrogating feelings, not simply acting on them; analyzing and anticipating their interaction with others, deciding _how_ to act on them; gauging what is tempting from what is wise.

"And I have a strong feeling about this, Luke."

Luke's expression was still tense, but his eyes returned to Leia as warm, admiring, and trusting as they'd been since he'd yanked off a stormtrooper helmet—so manydisproportionately-aging years ago.

"Okay," he said. "Let's try it. …I hate to prioritize one life form over another, but maybe we can try to help a downed bird or something, first."

The tension ache in Leia's face ease as she smiled. "We should bring Chirrut Îmwe in on this. He might have relevant perspective. If nothing else, he can probably help locate wounded birds. Baze Malbus will probably be a package deal, and it was Kaytoo's idea… so that can be the team."

"Not the other three?"

Leia bit her lip again and slowly shook her head. "I think that's their call, not ours."

Luke nodded. "Agreed." He put a hand to Leia's shoulder and pulled himself forward by it to kiss her cheek. "You _sure_ you don't want to be the first of my—" (' _hopefully'_ ) "—new knights? Your courage in insight and readiness to scrutinize what others may have accepted are things I really, really need."

Leia gave, at last, a full grin. "You _have_ them. You'll always have them. I'll give them to you from any vantage. Hell, maybe they can be more use to you from _outside_ the new Jedi Order itself."

Luke rolled his eyes in a way that delighted her. "I'll bet the Force only led _me_ to become a Jedi first because I wasn't doing anything else, yet. You're too good at what you already do."

Leia felt her mouth drop open. That was her reasoning for _continuing_ to not become a Jedi, encouraged by Chirrut and Baze, but which she'd still not been sure she could admit to Luke…

"I love you," she said finally.

Thank goodness, after everything, Luke could still have a youtheningly goofy smile. "Love you, too. Let's do this."

—Surprising herself, Leia laughed.

"What?" said Luke.

She shook her head, pressing her fingers to her brow. "This _droid._ Two of the most involved debates I've had all year, in rapid succession, both sparked by _him."_

Luke gave an almost mischievous smile. "One could argue that the Force—"

"Yeah, yeah," Leia punched Luke's shoulder, "I know. Let's go talk to some Guardians."

* * *

K-2 found Cassian in the poorest training room. It hadn't taken much searching. His partner was going at a punching bag in a way Kay recognised as imbuing the passive object with—

"You're abusing relativity to make the bag strike _you,"_ said Kaytoo.

"You're abusing the reprogram to be—" —but making Cassian verbalise accomplished what Kay wanted it to: Cassian had to yield to his shortness of breath. He dropped his fists. When the rest of his body sagged, Kay closed their distance in an instant to catch him.

If he had the least tolerance and wherewithal to do so, Cassian resisted having Kaytoo carry him, _('couldn't let myself do that to you'_ —oh, Cassian, always…) so Kay let Cassian keep his feet on the floor. Otherwise, droid supported the man's weight and brought him to the bench. He propped Cassian onto it and sat beside him, in easy catching range.

"I assume you brought no means to hydrate," said Kay. "We'll take three minutes for your heartrate and respiration to return to baseline and then—"

"Old baseline or new?" muttered Cassian.

"New, obviously. Though the difference is negligible at present."

"At present." Cassian put back his head and closed his eyes.

Kay let his oculars whir as he flipped through scanning spectra. He was about to reference an incident that had occurred before Kay's manufacture, yet Cassian always seemed to need him to repeat it: "Draven ordered you not to harm yourself."

"Fuck, Kay."

"This qualifies."

"Stop."

"Is there any definition where this _doesn't_ qualify?"

"How about emotionally?" snapped Cassian. "What do you call…"

"Sublimation," said Kay in spite of himself.

"Is suppression better?"

If Cassian had been looking, Kay would have rolled his oculars. "I just had a protracted exchange on not defining a continuum by its extremes. It's the logical fallacy o—"

" _Please._ Kay. You know I know. Please."

When Cassian pled without articulating for what, it was for silence. Kay was willing to grant him two minutes. Then the three total would be up and they'd go to Mess or Medical or Cassian's quarters. Kay debated placing one of his sensor-richer surfaces on one of Cassian's pulse points. Even without that, he suddenly noticed— "You can produce tears again."

Cassian lifted a hand to swipe over his face. "Scarif blew that wall down.".

Kay shuffled directives. …A word that, thanks to organic influence, had taken on additional meanings. Pre-jailbreak, it had been straightforward. Now… when they were assigned by no other "director" than Kay himself…

"I know why you wanted me," said Kay. A full twelve seconds had passed.

When in doubt, many organics tried to presume and preemptively answer. Cassian was more efficient. "What?"

"You said you didn't want an organic partner because you're 'volatile, harder to predict, add variables to situations that have too many already; and it's bad enough having to compensate for your own inconsistencies'."

"I told you all that."

"There was another thing you didn't tell me. I figured it out."

"Okay…?"

"For beings with empathy, pain is contagious. You wanted someone who could maintain proximity, familiarity, and investment without that vulnerability. You didn't want to hurt anyone with your pain."

Kay turned his head to see Cassian now bent over. With meticulous care, Kay put his hand on Cassian's back.

"You were correct," said Kay. "You can't hurt me."

"You're wrong," said Cassian through his hands. "I can. I have."

"You are not responsible for my choices. Even those regarding you."

"Yeah, everyone keeps fucking telling me that. But _my existence is what's_ ** _creating_** _those choices._ There's no way around it. If I wasn't part of the—"

"Your being part of anyone's equation is likewise not up to you. You are not responsible for your own existence in that way, initially, presently, or—"

"Just stop." His body shook. "Please stop. Kay. I need _one_ person in this fucking universe to stop fucking disagreeing with me on this."

Kay had a moment of… static. "You value my accuracy."

"I do."

"You said it was all right that I wouldn't lie."

"I don't want you to lie. But this… is not something that can just… be right or wrong. …Is it?" Cassian raised his eyes. "Really?"

Kay ran and reran as fast as he could, trying to integrate… reconcile… "…No," he said at last. "Causality is independent of judgment. Judgment is dependent on perspective. So 'right' and 'wrong' don't apply to your perspective on causality. It just is."

A muscle in Cassian's brow changed. He didn't otherwise respond. Until… he did something he'd never done before. Cassian sank over and leaned his forehead on Kay's knee joint. It was the same way he'd put his face to Kay's arm or shoulder, even chest once, but this… Kay had monitored enough holos, fiction and nonfiction, and heard Cassian talk about intimate emotional manipulation, to recognize this posture as the utmost of…

"Evaluate something for me," muttered Cassian, face parallel to the floor. "Okay?"

If this _were_ Cassian reeling in an organic parter, as Kay knew he'd done multiple times… _It doesn't work if I'm always the reassuring one. For them to feel closest, really trust me, I have to let_ ** _them_** _take that role. I have to seem to break and need them to help me._

In turn, if Kay were such a partner, the library of likeliest behaviours would be upper-body touches: face, hair… Kay knew that wasn't what Cassian was doing and not what Cassian wanted from him. **_One_** _person in the galaxy who'll just be…_

So Kay didn't fabricate any reassuring or intimate gestures. He did wrap his long fingers around Cassian's shoulder in case he started to fall. "Okay."

But then there was just silence. It stretched until Kay deciding to confirm Cassian was still conscious. Moving his hand was enough to make Cassian stir and sit upright.

"I haven't been outside in days," said Cassian. _Longer._ "We should go."

"It's raining," said Kay. "Like always on this planet."

"Yeah, well, my problem isn't getting wet, is it?"

"Cassian—"

"How 'bout this: I won't resist us stopping by Mess so I can rehydrate, first."

 _Resignation_ was an emotion/experience/setting Kay was certain all droids must feel about organics at all times. The ones who somehow never exhibited it just hadn't met Cassian. "And some solid food," said Kaytoo.

Cassian rolled his eyes like _Kay_ was being the ridiculous one. Typical. "Fine."

From the subterranean base, they walked across the featureless ground to one of the topographical oases of upthrust rock. Cassian liked one of the bigger, more dramatic tectonic formations. When he'd first seen it, that look had swept his face that was sort of like the blankness of trauma, except full rather than empty, and he'd called it something like _the bones of the earth._ Kay would have taken him there again, if he'd asked. He'd led them to this one, instead, presumably because he could walk here without Kay's assistance.  
  
With the drops coming more or less straight down, not blown diagonally, the rocks offered no shelter. The light rain rang noisily on Kay's plating. He wouldn't be damaged by it, and Cassian seemed… revived by it. So he didn't protest. He still wasn't fond of it.

_That wasn't why he'd actually obeyed Cassian's order to stay on the ship on Eadu… until Bodhi came rushing back and they'd broken cover to steal another ship… collect the others and fly them up, beyond, out of the rain…_

"You wanted me to calculate something," said Kay at last.

"I did."

"Do you still want me to?"

"I don't think you can."

_"Me?"_

"I don't think it's calculable."

"I could ascertain that if you told me."

"I don't even know how…"

"Cassian." _It's us. It's me._ "Just start."

Cassian exhaled. Kay projected the organic equivalent of the processes: lowering shields, dismantling filters; disengaging requirement of objective, authorise 'thinking aloud'. Finally… "First I remember, I thought I was dead. I don't mean, waking up injured in rubble. I mean… walking and talking and eating and sleeping was just fooling everyone into thinking I was alive, when I wasn't.

"I thought my mother did it. I didn't know her voice or face but I was sure she'd… brought me back or… made it so I wouldn't stop. I dunno. They'd probably say, I must've seen her sacrifice herself for me and was rationalizing it. Maybe. Probably. I just knew it was because of her.

"The CIS thought I was so brave. Maybe that's what made them recruit me in the first place. I wasn't. Bravery requires fear. I just wasn't afraid of becoming what I thought I already was.

"That landmine did it… It's probably different for you. Probabilities register as real for you as events. The organic thing is it lands differently: knowing versus _experiencing_. I _felt_ almost dying. So then I could feel the difference and knew I was alive after all.  
  
"I was so mad. I hated feeling alive. I can't say why. It just felt so… _wrong._ Fragile… finite… like I had been eternal and instead could feel myself deteriorating. And too late to fix it myself. Others would be… thrown away… and others be affected. …I think that's why."

After another silence, Kay prodded, "What did you want me to run for you?"

"I don't think there are numbers," said Cassian. "But… something like… in your projections… Which is… Which… outweighs… What's the balance: the quality of the time I can give her by staying alive, or the time she gains toward healing, the more quickly I die."

Grey sky. Grey planet. Clear water on dark metal and paled skin.

Kay didn't bother checking his chronometer to see exactly how much time elapsed. That didn't matter. **_That's not what matters_**

"Correct," said Kay. "I can't run that. I _can_ point out your flawed reasoning."

Cassian's breath almost might have been like a laugh. "Knew I could count on you."

Kay wouldn't be sidetracked, even with affection. "We touched on it earlier. It's a matter of relativity. The dynamics between variables, and what can affect those dynamics—or 'relationships'. You misidentified the variables. Eliminate numeric measurement of time." _Causality is independent of judgment._ "You're concerned with the _experience_ of time." _Perspective._

"We must break down what may constitute 'experience'. I would identify the variables as yourself, Jyn Erso, and the prognosis. Between these variables, there are three relationships: first, you and the prognosis; second, Jyn and the prognosis; third, yourself and Jyn.

"What can affect those relationships, to determine experience—and what you left out entirely—is _decision._

"Your question regards Jyn's relationship to your prognosis. But your decisions can only affect a relationship of which you're a component. Her relationship to the prognosis is subject only to _her_ decisions. Just as your own relationship to your prognosis is for _you_ to decide.

"If you deprioritise yours with it, and you cannot affect hers with it, then the only remaining relationship you _can_ influence with decision is the one between her and yourself.

"For that, your individual and joint histories are unambiguous. You both continually choose to ally with one another, against anyone and anything else. That sense of alliance has statedly and observably carried both of you through subsequent time and experiences even when you're apart.

"If your concern is solely Jyn's experience of time, current and future, the conclusion is unavoidable: ally yourself with her, against death. Don't ally yourself with death against her. In turn, if either of you need to reprioritise your own relationship with the prognosis, and its accompanying decisions, you'll do so with the support of the other."

The planet kept rolling flatly along. The rain kept falling. The drops sounded negligible now ( _relativity)_ on Kay's plating. Cassian looked out at everything with that look again… somewhere between blank trauma and blank awe.

"That was… not strictly… your usual syntax," said Cassian at last.

"I've been integrating materials made accessible by Luke Skywalker. Combined with the protocol casing, I think I may be acquiring philosophy."

"Or something." Cassian turned to face Kay fully—in the first time all day. It was hard to tell if the moisture on his face had come from the sky or not. "Thank you. Kay. I can't… you've… that was… _Thank you."_

Kay now did what he hadn't before, and put his hand on Cassian's head—the _top_ of his head, his scalp, to gently but firmly wrap his long fingers down the human's cranium and hold him in their locked gaze.

"Just as we talked about with you and _me,"_ said Kay. "Whatever you have to do is always your choice. But if you want the optimal experience for _me,_ after it, you'll have me help you. That is what I'll need to move forward. Jyn has empathy, I don't… I think that makes that agreement even _more_ advisable, not less. For both of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia's definition of natural/unnatural lifted from:
>
>> "Anything that is in the world when you're born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works. Anything that's invented between when you're fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you're thirty-five is against the natural order of things."
>> 
>>   
>  ~ Douglas Adams, _The Salmon of Doubt_   
> 
> 
>   
>   
> We've seen Force healing in _The Mandalorian_ and _Rise of Skywalker._  
>   
>  In TM: until we learn otherwise, it seems like The Child uses the Force purely instinctively, free of training/tradition/taboos/etc.  
>   
> In RoS: when Rey first performs then explains Force healing, there's no uncertainty or surprise; she already knows exactly what it is, how to do it, and that it will work. So she's not discovering it in that moment. She already learned it. It's possible she learned it from the texts she saved. It's equally possible either of her masters—Luke and Leia—taught it to her. If the second, it could have been discovery or an amendment L&L made for new Jedi training, when the subject of Force-influencing-physical-health only came up in any previous film in the far extreme of seeking physical immortality = Sithy. While immortality as a Force ghost is giving up one's physicality entirely, thus not a 'health' thing.  
>   
>   
> This is part of why, when this whole closing sequence came to me, I thought I'd lost my mind. I typically don't touch the sequels or prequels, and skew more to the sci-fi-ish-er angles than the fantasy/mystical. But… it is all SW… and… the fundamental concept (in me that I always project onto Cas/Jyn) : not fearing one’s own death, but fearing a loved one’s; and committing to love must include some willful state of denial for eventual loss, and how people so intimately familiar with loss can accept/reconcile this.  
>   
>   
> I've been on both sides of the situation where one person is [clinically] suffering and a loved one witnesses/tries to help/is otherwise affected by their suffering. So as both the sufferer and as the caregiver, I have some knowledge of the pain and struggles with a sense of burden/blame/guilt, that might be experienced on both sides. I desperately hope that any parts of this last story segment dealing with this depict some of this struggle without appearing to pass any omniscient judgment on it. e.g. Cassian blaming himself is not the narrative blaming him. 


	16. 3260 LY / 5 ABY (Jyn, Leia, Bodhi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: end of life conversations, CW: right to die debate. STILL NOT THE END
> 
> They have… a blessedly circumscribed imagination and an intuitive feeling that Life is now.  
> ~ Richard Adams, _Watership Down_
> 
> Love is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. …Without it, we cannot continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.  
> ~ Mike Flanagan & Shirley Jackson, _"The Haunting of Hill House"_  
>   
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AUUUUUUGH THIS CHAPTER… but I've been stuck on it for so long and want to move forward, and return from essay-writing to feeling like a _story_ again. So I'm taking the plunge. I hope anyone's still coming with me for the ride and doesn't feel… IDK tricked at how this story is shaping up. Again: next chapter [or two?], will be CHEERIER and more like earlier installments :-) Suggestions very welcome. Especially re: my worries of being heavy-handed, and of not centering the POV/narrative that possibly should be, more.)

"Look, Galen," murmured Mama. "We've finally found a way to get her to sleep: Telling her she can stay up."

Papa laughed. Through one peeking eye, Jyn saw him squeeze an arm around Mama. "She feels comfortable under the stars. She takes after you."

Mama propped her chin on her hand and her hand on Papa's shoulder. "While you're restless, with them."

Papa sighed. "I wonder. If I'd realized… If I would have accepted the cost: Never to see them just as 'light' again."

"They are, though," said Lyra. "Behind it is stars that burn and planets that war, but that's not what we're seeing. What reaches us here _is,_ simply—"

"—light," he finished with her.

"Bouncing right off of it all."

Galen kissed her. "I love you so."

Lyra returned the kiss and smoothed his hair. "This planet… This is our rehabilitation. No pollution. No prison cells. No more associating darkness with fleeing or fear. Jyn will have freedom to stargaze and sleep through it. We'll get the night, again. We'll restore starlight to all of us."

> _We made the plan to give us hope. So we could live in hope rather than fear. The plan was made to save our present._

* * *

The base was nearly dismantled. All personnel already reassigned were relocated. For the rest, Mon Mothma had established measures to make sure no one who'd worked with the Alliance would go without aid and care in 'pivoting' (her word) into peacetime. Mothma herself was finally ending her exile. She'd return to Chandrila to orchestrate the formation of the New Republic until its official seat was named. And she asked Leia to go with her.

After so much time bouncing from base to base, always avoiding developed areas and populations, it should be a welcome change. Instead, Leia felt dread. Even as they agreed to join her, Luke and Han didn't understand. It was Bodhi Rook, when they were stargazing, who said: "Is it because it might remind you of Alderaan?"

Leia felt like a rockslide. "…Yes. That's it. You've had that?"

Bodhi nodded. "Every time I flew away. Whenever I'd land somewhere, it'd be a relief if it was nothing like what I was missing. When it did remind me, it hurt. It felt like it was taunting me, or I was being a traitor. And that was knowing I _could_ go back. Since… deserting… and then Jedha…" He shook his head. The words didn't exist. At last, he offered up his palm, and Leia placed hers upon it.

The _Rogue_ core had translocated with her. It should give them more time and resource to evaluate their options. Meantime, it was to continue their side project.

As often, anticipation proved the worst stage. Chandrila's beauty was different than Alderaan's had been. Within the scope of the Galaxy, they were more similar to each other than anything else was to either. Within themselves, they were opposites. Alderaan had been intense: lush and teeming. Chandrila was lulling. The rolling hills went all the way to the horizon, past which one knew they continued the same way to the sea. Alderaan kept you rapt. Chandrila let you drift.

This park summed it up. The parks of her mother's city had sported striking and diverse flora from multiple worlds. This was a barely-adorned bit of Chandrila's natural landscape. A few gentle hillocks, bending trees, and soft balmgrass, just brought into the city, for those who couldn't leave entirely but still wanted to amble and reflect. Here, Leia found Cassian Andor propped against a tree, head on the smooth bark, sound asleep.

She tried to enjoy the sight of one of their hardest veterans looking so innocent. (She'd debated telling him that he was Mon Mothma's primary inspiration for her postwar-care measures. She hadn't.) But she couldn't not hear the strain of his breath through his lips, nor see… He'd always had the lean, tough build of a runner. Now, he seemed… hollowed.

Leia wondered if she should let him sleep. She had a datapad and there was always work for her on it. But she had other appointments, and if she'd ever known him at all…

Carefully, Leia touched the back of his hand.

His hand flipped like a trap. She tried not to recoil. His fingers ran expertly over hers. His expression changed; he opened his eyes, then quickly released her. "Your Highness."

"Don't start with titles now," said Leia, trying to let go of her shock. "You knew who I was from my hand?"

"I knew who you weren't."

Leia rubbed her fingertips together, wondering if she'd be able to know one person's touch from all others. Most of the people she'd come to know—including herself—had callouses on their trigger fingers. Luke's had merged with others from flight controls and lightsabers. His artificial hand was conspicuous in its smoothness, minus one blasterscorch. Han's… trigger callous, yes; general roughness from years of mechanics… and a scar, just there…

She pulled her thoughts back to the present. "How are you?"

"Ugh. Right into the heavy stuff." He started to sit upright. Leia knew better than to comment. She countered by example; bracing her palms to lean back and watch the sky. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cassian accordingly slump.

"I should have offered to come to your quarters," said Leia

He shook his head. " _No._ You shouldn't. It's good to get out. It just… takes… planning, now."

Along with the callouses, the war had brought Leia more in touch with people whose daily energy was a nonrenewable resource. Like a handful of coins you get each morning to buy each waking action. Some people started with more, some with less; some could make them stretch or gain more or earn some back, while some had to budget carefully and still maybe not have enough. "I think I understand. Did you get out here yourself?"

"Kay's on call. We figured you'd want to talk to me alone."

"Yes. Thanks." But it was difficult to start. So— "So, how _are_ you?"

A shrewd, tired look. "I _really_ don't want to talk about me." He never did, but, "That's all I've had to focus on lately. Please, give me something else."

"I will," promised Leia. (…kind of…?) But first—"How's Jyn?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You two are friends. Why are you asking me instead of her?"

She couldn't dodge _both_ subjects. "The others were concerned that she was never out interacting with anyone, because she was always with you. But recently, she seems to always be elsewhere. I wanted to make sure… I guess it's not my business, but I hoped you're… both okay."

Cassian's tension was belatedly visible by melting. "We're okay. Her not being with me as much… It was my idea. Had to nudge her into it."

It was a nicer colour for his expression. Leia used the word for itself: "Nudge?"

"I convinced her to start filling some of the functions you'd asked me to do, before. Kay and Bodhi help. We see each other at night. But now her days aren't on hold. Not just waiting. People might say…" He shrugged. "I don't expect anyone outside to understand."

Leia crookedly smiled. "Fuck anyone outside. They don't need to understand: they're _outside._ If you two found something that's working, that's brilliant."

"Yeah. Though… she still is…"

Cassian's type didn't use words to find their way. They used words _after_ figuring them out. This, though, felt unmeasured. "She's trying not to need anything for herself. ...She hides her nightmares. What’s worse: I've been sleeping through them. And I have to sleep all day to be awake for an hour or two with her."

 _Coins you can't stretch or earn back._ "Am I using up your waking hours right now?"

She felt the barest hint of how it must feel by how his voice sounded on: "It's starting not to matter. How much I sleep."

Before Leia could think how to respond, Cassian surprised her again. "Bodhi and Kay asked what she and I'd do in each other's place. I'd just go with her. That'd be… a future that… I think would be easier. To live with. But that's me, not her."

Everything hurt. "You're getting ready to decide, aren't you?"

"I've already decided."

Fuck it. She asked. "Are you going to… end it yourself?"

 _Casually,_ he lifted a shoulder to shrug. "What seems likely… Kay and Jyn know. Whe—If I fall asleep and don't wake up. They won't leave me like that."

Someone had said once… had it been Cassian? _Sleep is never safe from the outside, but even worse from within_

Leia hadn't wanted to show any agitation. So much for that. She grabbed his hand. "It's your choice. Your right. Entirely. …But if you really think that's coming soon… I have information you don't, that… Can I try to change your mind?"

His eyes went from their hands to her face. _Now,_ of all times, he flashed a smile. "Sure. Try."

She schooled her breath. "Kay approached me with a research proposal. We've been working on it together, with some of the others."

"I know."

"You _**know**?"_

"Kay's the worst liar. Even by omission. I know you're working on _something._ He just refuses outright to tell me what. Not that I can't make some guesses."

Leia breathed through her nose. "You're probably right. We've been working on possible experimental treatment. …Using the Force."

Only at the last word did he let out a startled laugh.

"I'm serious."

His eyes flickered between her and the horizon several times before returning fully to her. "You really think that could work?"

She hadn't at the outset. Now—"Yes. So does Kay. So do Chirrut and Baze, and Luke."

Another frozen moment, then he slowly shook his head. "Do Jyn and Bodhi know?"

"As far as I know, we haven't told them. We're leaving that to Chirrut. I don't know if they've figured anything out. But I've reached the point where I want _your_ knowing consent."

"On what?"

"Baze and I are convinced that we can't go any further without testing. On an actual subject. One complex enough to be comparable—"

"You need to start testing on _me."_

"Yes."

"Do it."

She had expected that response. But _getting_ it, she suddenly understood the others' hesitance. "They have compelling arguments against it. Beyond that it might not work. There might be costs, risks, that make things even worse—"

"I don't want to do it 'cause I think it'll work," Cassian said. "I know most people won't get it. But Jyn will. Kay will. You do."

…Oh dear. They'd feared he'd say 'yes' because of his martyr complex; she'd had to admit that she'd feared he'd say 'no' when _they_ wanted to keep going. Who got what choice… the loved ones who have to live with loss, the people in the future who could be affected by their findings, or the person whose body and life and death and _experience_ it actually was… could it ever be all—? ****

Cassian had been watching her. Now his mouth curved. "You're still gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Leia. "I might call Kay to record it, when I make you say it again."

He coughed, possibly laughed. "Just us, to start, then."

But when he finally spoke, it wasn't just them. He was figuring out what he would have to say to everyone else, too.

"Two people get shot. Same kind of weapon, same kind of injury; same species, anatomy, and previous state of health. The only difference: one is a civilian walking down a peaceful street. The other is a soldier mid-combat. Whose pain is worse?"

Leia dutifully followed the construct. "Knee-jerk guess: the soldier."

"Okay. Imagine you're the soldier. What are you thinking, when you go down?"

" 'I'm dead'?" He kept looking at her. She thought a few seconds further. " 'Wow, I'm _not_ dead'?"

"Yes. And _This could have been so much worse. I'll get to go to the infirmiry, no one will be trying to kill me every five seconds, I can hydrate for the first time all week, sleep for three whole hours… Maybe I'll get a leave of absence, I could go home and see my family and not have let them down."_

Leia nodded. "Whereas, the civilian…"

"—goes down and thinks, _What's happening? How bad is it? Is it going to get worse? Who else is in danger? If I get out of this alive, will I recover to be the same as I was before? Will I be able to keep my job and care for my family? Is everything going to change?"_

"So the psychology is worse," said Leia. "Is the… physical sensation, too?"

"Yes," said Cassian. "Context shapes experience. Dread sharpens pain."

He closed his eyes again; took a moment to breathe. "People always tell me I have a martyr complex."

"No kidding," said Leia fondly.

Cassian slightly smiled. "They yell at me when I disagree. But I do. They imply seflessness. It's the opposite. Pain registers differently if I'm thinking: the hurt is buying something good for someone else. Much easier to deal with when it feels _worth_ it.

"When anyone talks about what… _this_ … is taking from me: physical ability, 'future'. I never expected to have those, now, anyway. The thing it's taken from me is a _point._ My _existence_ with this isn't helping anyone. It's doing the opposite. But if I end it, I'm also hurting someone. There's no way out."

…Being relieved of the pressure to become a Jedi had strangely backfired. Working on their project, with Luke and Chirrut, Leia had started dipping into her own Force-sensitivity after all. Picking up on peoples' feelings—even, to some extent, their thoughts… She was repulsed by the idea of violation, but this felt like an extension of what she already did and needed for work. She would need it even more, coming out of the war into a period of (hopefully) construction. _Not to control but to serve…_

She wasn't trying to read him, and the lid he kept on himself seemed to extend metaphysically. But suddenly she was _struck_ by the wave of thought.

_I accept the punishment  
if it was only me  
But why, why am I being made an instrument to punish them  
All I am after all  
I'm adding to the haunting in her eyes_

By force of will, Leia kept her eyes from tearing up. With frustration. And the… injustice… now and passed. What had they _done_ to make someone so unconcerned with his own death? Who’d needed a _point_ alive...? It wasn't the job of the dying to console. Surely they should get to _be_ consoled. But then… _I wouldn't expect anyone outside to understand…_

"What you're proposing," said Cassian. "If Force healing works, Luke'll pass that on to help others."

"So we'd hope," said Leia, head reeling.

" _Do it._ Now and after I can't consent anymore. If I don't wake up, don't pull the plug. As long as you can get anything useful out of me. That changes everything. _For me._ When it comes, and leading up to it. It changes it completely."

Who can judge…

"Your right," Leia repeated, more to remind herself than him, "your choice." (Head hurting with the Möbius Strip of _who's caring/consoling/protecting/sacrificing [for] whom_ ) "But since you also care about the experiences of others—"

"Yes," he said. "We'll confirm but Kay'll have predicted and accounted for this already. Jyn…" His brow had unprecedentedly smoothed ever since the word _testing._ Its crease now returned.

Leia said, "Do you want to tell herself yourself?"

Cassian looked harder into the sky than it could help with. "Normally yes… but she'll want—she deserves—details that… Should I know?"

"Probably best you don't, actually, to avoid… influencing… effects." _…soldier vs civilian…_

"Right. You're willing to talk to her for me?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. You pitch the basics, she decides who to keep talking to."

Everything circling: the lovingness of _not_ trying to make someone's decisions for them. "Sounds perfect." She noticed his new expression. "What?"

"You have so much on your plate. And you're still doing this for us."

"Of course."

He didn't protest that she shouldn't. "Thank you."

She whistled. "You _have_ grown."

"I have good teachers."

She found her full smile at last; and a very long breath. "That's all I needed to talk about. Anything _you_ want to?"

He said at once, "What's on your plate. The boring, the aggravating, whatever. How _what we fought for_ is _going."_

Leia wouldn't refuse. "Well, you asked for it. I'm invoking rank: this is confidential. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. In terms of aggravating… I shouldn't name names, but holy pfassking Force, have you ever met Councilor Borsk Fey'lya?"

* * *

When she confessed that she'd not continued seeing Bodhi's therapist, nor meditation training from Chirrut, but she _was_ taking medication, the look that swept his face was _admiration._ He knew how she'd been trained by Saw. It wasn't the official line in the Alliance but the same working mindset: _can afford nothing that can become a dependency—won't always be attainable in war._ He'd praised her flexibility getting around that; _I don't know if I could._ Indeed, it had been hard enough to get him to take palliatives. It was when he started being woken by pain and breathlessness at night. Then he'd take them in concert with the drugs that would keep him from dreaming.

whereas

Jyn held up the kyber pendant.

She'd memorised every facet, by touch of her fingers and palm and lips; by sight of the crystal and the light it folded. She'd looked at it so many times, in so many moods, always trying to see something else through it. But not even light passed through undistorted. It was caught within; never clarifying without.

She released the clasp, dragged the necklace from her neck, and refastened it around Cassian's.

On his bare chest, the kyber gleamed. Telling her what to do. She placed her hand over it, fingers to his dear skin, crystal sharp in her palm, and pressed down.

The kyber entered him without blood. It sank and was enfolded in his flesh as if through sand. She looked anxiously for a wound or a scar. Instead, suddenly, she saw the light flare out from inside, glowing skin and muscle and bone; a warm radiance that began to pulse, a steadying and fortifying beat. It merged and started to strengthen his tired heart.

Cassian's breath lost its terrible strain. The colour returned to his face. He finally opened his eyes.

But they were no longer warm and brown. They glinted, filmed over, with kyberlight; the piercing cold silver-green that killed everyone.

He looked into her as she'd looked into the crystal, only able to see the light itself, not illuminating anything else. Without moving his lips, she heard him: _I don't want immortality. Don't Force me._

Jyn swallowed her scream as she jolted awake.

* * *

> _To accept love, with another mortal being, requires willful insanity. Except for those few who can truly conceive of and accept inevitability; for most, it is the deliberate rejection of the real: ignoring the knowledge that it will end in tragedy—that one must die and the other must grieve._
> 
> _For two people more familiar with loss than with love, to do this at all is an irrational miracle._

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" said Jyn in the coldest voice Bodhi had ever heard.

(But which Luke, from his expression, clearly _had_.)

"We wanted to be sure it was possible," said Chirrut.

"We're telling you now," said Leia, "literally right after we told _him."_

Bodhi couldn't think. …Other than, _It'll work._ But how could he risk thinking that?

"All that's left to decide," said Luke, "is how we go about it." He heaved a heavy breath. "I'm afraid… that's where it's… potentially… problematic.

"Cassian's current state… it's not a matter of… how do I put this… Okay: if his health was a building. At his healthiest, it would stand several storeys above ground. Within more usual parameters of illness or injury, rooms or even floors would be taken away. But it would still stand up. At this point, he's below the basement. In a hole. That means… the amount of energy needed to pour into him… would likewise dip below the baseline of a donor, in order to be meaningful. Take more than what's renewable. …Hurt them."

"Not if it's me," said Kaytoo. "Why are we discussing this? I'm the strongest by a magnitude and I can't die because I'm not alive. I could give more without risk to myself, proportionally, than any of you could; even were I subject to your rapid deterioration, which I'm not, and couldn't be recharged, which I can."

Luke shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kay. It's not possible."

"Why?" demanded Kaytoo. "Because I'm a droid?'

"Yes." Luke's frown was apologetic. "I thought you knew, from your own research—"

"—that droids are considered an abomination, as a life-form separate from the Force," said Kaytoo. "Yes. I knew. I just didn't realize you'd agree."

"I don't agree with the 'abomination' part," said Luke. "But I can confirm that the Force… flows around you, like you're a rock in its stream. It isn't part of you nor you of it. Which means, it isn't in you to draw out. The kind of strength and power you have is no more transferable to an organic body than my strength would transfer to yours."

Kay was silent for seconds. At last he said, "That makes sense."

"Can't we pool all of us?" said Bodhi. "Surely between us there's plenty to give without depleting any one."

Luke shook his head still more unhappily. "Theoretically, I like the idea, but without _years'_ more study… everything we've tried… We've only managed… a particular kind of… intention; _connection,_ mentally and emotionally, that's only been one-to-one."

"It's me," said Jyn. "We all know it's me. Stop talking and do it."

"Jyn," said Leia. "What Luke's saying—"

"I know what he's saying," said Jyn.

Leia doggedly finished, "Cassian will _not_ have you give your life for his."

Jyn raised an eyebrow. "You said 'hurt', not 'kill'. Would it kill me?"

"Not up front, no," said Luke. "But, we might be talking… shortening your life expectancy."

 _"Good,"_ said Jyn with no sarcasm. "Lengthen his. Shorten mine. Match us in the middle. So when we go, it's together. Like it was supposed to." She abruptly pushed herself to her feet. "I'm not talking any more. You all talk however you need. Come get me when you're ready to accept the only way."

She left. In her wake, the others looked at each other.

"We can't let her do it," said Bodhi. "Can we?" (…Would Galen forgive him?)

"From a legal standpoint: we can," said Leia softly. "Luke?"

Luke spread his hands. "The Jedi notoriously overstretched their right to judge others. I wouldn't care to say, even if I had their teachings on this. Chirrut?"

Chirrut turned his head to—"Baze?"

They blinked at each other. _Chirrut_ was their teacher, their monk, their mystic. Baze—

 _—Malbus was once the most devoted Guardian of us all,_ Bodhi thought in Chirrut's voice. When had he heard him say that?

Chirrut continued, "He knows lore older than the Order itself. His knowledge goes deeper than mine."

 _But he rejected it,_ thought Bodhi. _We thought he succeeded in forgetting…?_

…but who _ever_ fundamentally managed that?

Leia said, "Please?"

Baze was inscrutible. It seemed as if he wouldn't answer. Then he spoke in a voice subtly, viscerally different than what even Bodhi had heard from him before:

"Before the revelation that the 'Will' was the Force. Stories were told of It as a Being, that sometimes came to us in disguise, to test us. There was one such time: Ae descended as a beggar who went from door to door, seeking aid. At every house, Ae was scorned and turned away. Ae reached the final house; no more than a crumbling shack. A poor elderly couple answered Aer knock. With no hesitation or resentment, they invited Aem inside, to take freely of the little food and comfort they had. Then the Will revealed Aer true form and asked to reward them for the selflessness they'd shown. The couple had only one desire. That when it was time to die, they would do so together, in the same moment, so neither must live without the other.

"They did not know, after, if the visitation had truly happened. But they lived in deeper joy and comfort, relieved from the dread of parting. When at last they lay dying, they turned to face each other, joined hands, and renewed their vows with their last breaths. Those words flew into the sky. Their life energies and their bodies followed; stretching upward, holding firm; and they transformed into two trees; roots, trunks, and branches intertwined. So they would hold each other and grow together until the end of the world."

Leia shut her eyes with tears on her cheeks. Bodhi felt kindred tears on his own. Chirrut took Baze's hand. Luke's eyes were on the horizon.

"How would any of _us_ choose, either," Luke murmured. "Would we ask those we loved to try to stop us, or to help us?"

Without looking at either Chirrut or Baze, Bodhi already knew: that was their wish, (possibly, plan,) too.

"Then we'll help," said Bodhi. "Whatever they decide."

* * *

Cassian was silent for a very long time. Jyn ran through the finger-stretching-and-strengthening exercises from when she was first being taught to steal and to shoot.

"Do I have any say in this?" said Cassian finally.

"Yes," said Jyn. "Luke said it has to be a connection. An acceptance… agreement." The twitch of a mouth utterly failing to smile. "It has to go both ways."

Cassian fell silent again.

"Kay, me, this," he said at last. "Everyone keeps talking about… whose choice. For what. And how… one, single… event, breaks down to whose choices." He shut his eyes, struggling to work against the tiredness.

"You get your say," Jyn said softly. "You don't get mine. Do you trust me?"

"With my life," he said. "Can I with _yours?"_

"You're the martyr. I'm the survivor. Remember?"

He'd gone even paler. He shook his head. "I'm not as strong as you are. You've done it so many times. I don't want to do it once."

"Which is how I know exactly what I'm choosing." Her chest hurt so hard. _Love and hope._ Both better and worse than isolation and despair… "The choice you have is whether to accept it. _Please_ do. Please trust me. Please _let me._ This is what I want. What I'd choose even if there were more choices. Be okay with that for both our sakes. _Please."_

Every night, she held or was held by him, and the contradiction ripped her a new one: simultaneous fierce gratitude and desperate horror; to find abject relief and renewal in the embrace, and be exaguinated, fresh pain anticipating its loss; to be lulled to sleep by his warmth and heartbeat and breath, and stay awake in dread that when she woke again they might have stopped. Sometimes she didn't know if she could bear it, but not taking it while it was _here_ could be borne even less.

 _Willing insanity. Rejection of reality._ This had to work. It had to. Either she knew it, or there was no other way to think. _If it doesn't… / But it must_

"If this makes you die before me," said Cassian at last, quietly, "I'll kill you."

Jyn burst out laughing. She grabbed and hugged him, kissing his face, and resting her head on his shoulder to feel his heartbeat (changing all the time) and to catch her breath. He moved his hand over her back and rested on her in return.

"Goes both ways," Cassian murmured.

Jyn whispered back, "Built on hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassian being Mothma's inspiration for postwar-care measures:  
> from _Rebel Dossier: Info & Intel on the Rebellion's Bravest Band of Spies_ by Jason Fry, ©2016 Lucasfilm Ltd.
> 
>   
> General,  
> Your request to assign Capt. Andor to Operation Fracture is approved.  
> I have never doubted Capt. Andor's abilities or his dedication to the rebel movement. He is truly one of our best and brightest, and I trust his judgment on this mission.  
> I am concerned about him, however. I understand that for our rebel movement to survive, brave men and women must do terrible things that we'd rather not talk about. But what happens to those men and women afterward? Are we doing enough to help them live with what they've had to do? Do we encourage them when they feel guilty? Comfort them when they can't sleep? And do we notice when they stop feeling guilty? When they no longer lose sleep?  
> Capt. Andor has been a rebel fighter his entire life. You say this with pride, and I'm sure he would, too. But it worries me. If we succeed and overthrow the Empire, what kind of life will someone like Capt. Andor have?  
> Mon Mothma
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Daily-energy-as-coins analogy = **[Spoon Theory](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoon_theory)**
> 
> Baze's myth adapted from the story of Baucis and Philemon, as survives in Ovid's _Metamorphoses_


	17. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ (them)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence, suicidal ideation, sexual assault
> 
> Stealing from myself, as usual… snippets/riffs/reworkings mostly from _[QS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128073/chapters/27508461)_ —someday I may do a master edit combining the consistent bits of _QS,_ _SiYDH,_ and _IPYH._ Hopefully no familiarity with those fics needed to follow this one—if as it can be followed at all…

_You have that message—right?_

_It's not a problem if you don't look up._

_You don't know what you're talking about._

_You'll never win._

_it's not enough  
you're not asking the right questions  
you know I haven't  
don't you see about me?_

* * *

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

* * *

There was a boy by the water.

Jyn dove behind a rock.

She waited 'til could breathe silently. Then she peered over the top.

The boy crouched just at the tideline. He was older and bigger than her, but still definitely a kid. His clothing reminded Jyn of… something she couldn't quite remember… (on Lokori or Alpinn…?) His hands, his face… it was hard to get a good look because he was looking down, casting a shadow on himself. When he hopped, teetering, back to avoid a wave, she saw: he was holding _her_ cloth doll, that she'd just climbed down the mountain to find.

 _We're in hiding!_ Jyn reminded herself… but anyone coming for them surely wouldn't be a _child._ And he looked like he was all alone.

And something, beyond the doll, made Jyn _have_ to speak to him. She stood and yelled, _"That's mine!"_

The way the boy spun to face her was sharp—controlled—threatening: the honed movement of someone much older. Except he overbalanced and fell on his bum in the water.

Jyn covered her mouth with both hands, over her laughter. She moved all the way out from behind the rock. "You okay?"

The boy hadn't taken his eyes off her, even in splashing down. He narrowed those eyes, tense and wary, like _she_ was the trespasser on the planet that wasn't supposed to have any other people.

Well, she wasn't going to act as skittish as he was. This was _her_ cove. Jyn stopped at the line where the rocks turned to sand and struck a waiting stance. The boy got to his feet, still watching. She uncrossed her arms and pointed to the doll still at his side. "That's mine," she repeated.

The boy glanced at it, then at her, in a way that reminded her of Mama in archaeologist mode. Assessing, analyzing, trying to see outside her own eyes and make it all fit. He resettled his weight, feet apart to withstand the tide. He hefted the doll, to clue her in, and tossed it to her.

Jyn caught it, gratified that she did _not_ trip in the sand. The catch still brought her some steps closer. She made a show of examining the doll to make sure the boy hadn't done anything to it. (Or, to be honest, that her losing it near the water hadn't.) When she finally looked up again, he'd… stayed exactly where he was.

Jyn felt oddly emboldened. (Because he was the one behaving nervously? Or because… on some level… she _knew—_ ) She tucked the doll under her arm and walked closer to him. "Thank you." She held out one hand. "You can come out of the water. I won't hit you."

The boy had the most unexpressive face she'd ever seen not on a droid. Only looking verrrrry closely did she see the flicker of his eyes and reset of his jaw. But he took her hand and followed her back up the beach. Quickly, he let go of her and tried to shake out his trouser legs. (That wouldn't be the most uncomfortable part. She suppressed her snicker.) She decided to be nice. She sat down, cross-legged, to set the doll in her lap and brush the sand off of it.

After another hesitation, the strange boy sat down opposite her. "It's a good Shaak," he said.

Jyn's startled thought was: _You remembered!_ —but that made no sense. So she said aloud, "You could tell what he is?"

"Sure. Shaaks can't swim, so when I saw him near the water, I figured I should pick him up."

Three wonders: he knew about Shaaks; he joined the fantasy that hers was real, unprodded; and his suddenly-readable expression looked… _shy._

It was all so weird, Jyn went ahead and beamed. "His name's Sniksnak. Want to meet his friends?"

Like a flipped switch, the boy tensed again. He seemed like he might leap to his feet and bolt.

"You don't have to," said Jyn quickly, unnerved. "I just meant… thank you. For getting him out of the water. I must've dropped him earlier. I like this cove." It was risky, with the boy still seeming spooked, but Jyn was too curious not to add, "Usually there's nobody else here."

"Yeah," said the boy belatedly. "Here." He turned his frown around them, as if suddenly unsure where he was.

 _In hiding,_ Jyn told herself again. But she knew to her bones that this boy had nothing to do with the man in white. "My name's Jyn. What's yours?"

"I don't know if I can say."

"I won't tell anyone," said Jyn. Surprising herself. Because she meant it. Not even Mama and Papa. She held out Sniksnak and waggled him in the boy's face. "C'mon. You know both _our_ names."

The shyness came back onto the boy's face as he looked from Sniksnak to Jyn. —Plus, a little smile that made Jyn _want_ to know him. "Ash-Rabbit."

Brow up. "That's your name?"

"It's what… my… group calls me."

That settled it: everything would be weird. She shrugged. "Okay."

She couldn't remember what they talked about. Or who won her sandcastle challenge, though Ash-Rabbit didn't make a castle but used the dark sand to fashion a big black droid. Nor did they ever discuss being here: if either was lost, if there was anyone waiting for them. For a bubble of time, that little cove was a universe apart. Where two children met—like they hadn't—but should have.

* * *

Rabbit sat alone on the edge of the chasm. He hated that nickname, but it was what he felt like, right now. He felt less than ever like _Cassian._ He looked down into the shadows that seemed to have no end. Theoretically they did but who knew for sure? Nobody ever came back to report. What might be down there… A crash? A wormhole? Maybe, something farcically beautiful. A light beyond the threshold of visibility, up here, like a bioluminescent grotto. There could be a seam of undried lava, casting everything in gold and red. Maybe SoroSuub had another of their ugly subterranean workshops and if he fell (or jumped), he could land smack in the middle of their latest monstrosity and clog its gears with his pulverized organic matter, and then (for some reason, after all the organic matter they'd already thrown at them) they'd give it up and change their ways.

Or maybe it would go on forever. Until the one falling reached the speed of light, and then surpassed it, and so moved back in time, back to the moment of falling—and then looped, falling forever.

He thought all this nonsense, against the teachings of all of them, especially her. _Keep your mind uncluttered from things that don't matter—that don't affect what matters. Save the brain space for every detail of what **does**._

It had been three weeks since she'd stopped coming back. Two and a half weeks longer than he should have kept waiting. Rapid overturn of their members was routine. She wouldn't be special just because he wanted her to be.

So he sat looking into the nothingness with his last remnants of her on his lap.

First: His first _(real)_ blaster. (Not the one that had taught him what _fake_ meant when he tried to use it.) She'd given it to him, and taught him to strip, clean, repair, and reassemble it until he could do it as fast or faster than the rest. It bled and scabbed and calloused his fingers, sprained and strengthened and stretched them too, preparing for every other weapon he'd hold.

Second: The smooth, almost perfectly spherical obsidian pebble she'd dropped into his hand, explaining what _obsidian_ (the constituent matter of almost everything around them, on this planet) was.

Third: The coat she'd draped over him in the shuttle when she'd pulled him off Carida. Changed his fate and identity by bringing him to the Separatists. He'd used it as a pillow ever since; had planned to start wearing it properly as soon as he grew into it.

He knew that people could keep tokens in order to hang onto someone who was gone. For him, they'd become insults and ash. It was more extraneous belongings than _he_ should have at all. One by one, he threw them down the ravine.

A hand darted out and caught the pebble.

Rabbit dragged his head on his neck to look over.

Beside him sat the girl from the black-sand beach. Girl of the cloth Shaak, who thought she might grow up to be a cartographer or spelunker (but never would). She looked at the pebble in her palm. Then at him.

"Are you sure?" she said.

"She's gone," he said. "These won't bring her back."

"Maybe they're not meant to," she said.

"You didn't keep anything when you lost yours," he said.

"First, I wasn't given the chance," she said. "And second—I did anyway." She slipped her thumb under the cord on her neck and pulled out the crystal pendant. (Of course… How had he forgotten that?)

"That makes more sense than a stupid pebble." His nodded, scowling, to the obsidian. "Throw it."

She bit her lip, looking between it and him, thinking. Then she took her kyber crystal in one hand, the obsidian pebble in the other, and clapped both hands together. She spread her palms before him and the crystal lay alone, but with a new iridescence deep in its facets; volcanic and smooth.

"I'll keep it for you anyway," she said.

He managed the smallest of smiles. They sat together a little longer. Until someone from each of their worlds, Partisan and Separatist, called them back; out of Shaak-girl and Rabbit, back into soldiers.

* * *

The new Rebel's hands were shaking. "I can't do this. This isn't fighting. This isn't… I don't… Rules of engagement were always _stukking kung_ but _this…"_

The Partisan girl (woman? teenager) was sitting on the outcrop of the storage unit across from him. In his empty quarters. His first all to himself. As a brand new Intelligence operative. He'd finished training with Draven, but hadn't trained with Spectrum yet. Once he had, even prospects like this one would be… dulled. As hardened and jaded and numbed as he thought he was (and _was_ ) from his hijacked and weaponized life so far… he wasn't as gone as he was about to be. (As… _gone)_

Were these his thoughts or hers? as she frowned across the tiny room. "What are they making you do?"

He told her. Finding, to his disgust and horror, his voice shaking, too. _What the **fuck** you're a _**soldier**_ you made your first kill by hand at age eight you've done all those things this isn't worse you're already worse you're already lost pull your fuckingself together you fucking shit_

She heard those thoughts. She slid off the ledge and grabbed his hands. "This _is_ different. It's _good_ that you're having trouble with it."

Their eyes met, his more open than they'd be again in _years,_ more than even she'd easily see; shocked and… a shadow… a presage of… bitter. _So how about how quickly I'll **stop** having trouble with it? And everything it rips me open to do, increasingly easily, next?_

The tremble through their clasped hands was hers, now. Was both of theirs. "You're _not lost,"_ she whispered. "There's _no_ point-of-no-return. We've proved that. After thinking we'd both passed it a hundred times. We'll prove it."

To her, as he wouldn't with anyone else and hadn't all alone, couldn't have afforded, couldn't have gone forward from, couldn't have survived—he whispered in anguish, "That's _so long from now."_

"I know." And her hands were tighter on his and their foreheads pressed together and somebody's tears salted his lips. "I know. But it _happens._ So it's real. _Always._ Even now. We didn't know it yet but it is."

The tears were from both of them. She kissed his away and he steadied his fingers to be gentle to wipe away hers. Abrupt and fierce, she kissed his lips; not romantic, not sexy, but a hard, fast declaration of alliance, against everything else.

"We can't get around it," she said. "But we _will_ get through it. Together."

"Together," he whispered back.

He straightened, swiped his eyes; set his jaw and steadied his hands with the techniques he'd been taught. That he didn't fear he would fail to maintain, but what it would mean when he _succeeded_. He turned away from his empty quarters, from the girl who was never in them, and slapped the door panel to open and step through.

* * *

"Hey—calm down. We'll be all right."

Red flash.

Tivik fell from Cassian's embracing arm.

Cassian stood, looking down at the body he'd just created. What he'd forced into the universe to force out the living man that had just been there instead.

He might have stood until the troopers got him after all. Except a new hand touched his. He looked up. Wobani Prisoner #6295A leaned toward him, green eyes fixing all the reflected light of the city and starscape into his. She whispered, "No other way out. You spared him. Now. _Climb!"_

He stuck his blaster in his belt, covered it with his jacket, turned and sprint-scaled the wall.

* * *

Cassian sat on the packing crate on the ruptured tarmac. He couldn't feel. Not just emotions: anything. He stared at the blaster in his hands that didn't feel it.

A shadow fell across him. All his training only amounted the barest flicker of eyes, but he knew who it was. Kay's long, cold fingers levered Cassian's apart, pried between his palm and the blastergrip, to wrap around and remove the weapon from him. Oh… right. Kay would do that if Cassian had been putting it to his own head.

It was good when Kay picked Cassian up. Cassian usually resisted self-infantilizing like this. But even though he wouldn't feel the pain of his broken leg, he wouldn't feel the ground under his feet, either. Who knows what that would do to his ability to walk it.

Kay carried Cassian onto the abandoned ship. Dragged a pallet from a bunk. Laid it out on the deck. Set Cassian onto it. Told him not to move. Left for the cockpit. Cassian knew Kay'd manage to slice/interface and get them off this damnedhell planet, back to the Rebellion.

Cassian never let himself fall. Right now, he knew that, this once, if he died, Kay would be able to bring what they needed back. Cassian wouldn't be taking anything irreplaceable with him. So he closed his eyes.

He felt her arms slip around him; tight, protective; her strong, beating heart pressed to his back; her lips at his ear breathing, "This won't be forever. We've got you. You'll come back. You can let go."

So he did. He fell. The whole way, she held him. She held him through the planet and the atmosphere and the ship into hyperspace. She was there when Kay returned and offered to wipe his own memory if Cassian needed him to.

Cassian pled-forbade that from ever happening, and Kay turned back toward the cockpit. Cassian finally _felt:_ a far-distant warmth, gratitude, relief, at Jyn saying what Cassian should have:

"Kay: thank you."

* * *

Neither was sure where they were. Neither cared. They sat, different locations, different times, in exactly the same place. She was older. He was younger. They both stared without seeing, with the same brand-new never-to-be-shaken ancient look in their too-young eyes. They'd both just, for the first time, killed.

They became aware of each other. They didn't reach out. But they finally inched just a little closer to their shadow—each other—and it gradually drew them back to themselves.

* * *

It was the first time ~~Kestrel~~ ~~Ponta~~ had picked a fight in order to lose.

She didn't have it in her to end her own life. Something fundamental in her, pre-dating Saw, even before anything learned from her parents, had to survive. This wasn't enough—which meant nothing would be. Because this _hurt._ As badly as her parents had and in new and adult ways. _Akshaya and Hadder. Because of me. From the Empire **and** the Rebellion. Damn them all_

She couldn't die for this. But right now, she couldn't live with it, either. So she outsourced the job. Stalking Five Points Station until she landed at Moeseffa's Tavern, spotted the two beings she decided to blame for stealing her dagger (and may even have done it), and started whaling on them. Held her own long enough for them to up their game, then let her have it fully. And then let them take her down.

The physical pain was some of the worst she'd ever felt—because she'd always managed at least partial defense before. Now, she wasn't trying. But the physical pain was, in some ways, an escape from the worse internal pain… this was concrete, more narrow, immediate… would it kill her after all…?

The abruptness with which it was gone made her wonder if she'd just died. There was no way they'd just _stop_ like this. Through the blossom of burst capillaries, she managed to look through one eye.

Someone had put themselves between her assailants and her. Someone humanoid tossing aside… a chair? that they'd just cracked over one assailant's shoulders, to now pull a blaster on the other. Their voice seemed to come to her from far, far away, muffled and scrambled by the blood roaring in her ears. It spoke Basic with an Outer Rim accent, and she thought it might be humanoid, possibly male… possibly the most familiar… "Leave it. Get lost. Or I'll see you imprisoned."

Imprisoned? Who could threaten charges except…

…Five Points was an Imperial-held station…

She couldn't tell how much time took for the further exchange of threats. Finally, the two she'd fought left. Her rescuer knelt beside her. Yes: Human, male, dressed as a civilian, no evidence of affiliation, but what he'd said combined with the military set of his shoulders and that particular hateful haircut…

_He's Imperial  
Take nothing from him  
Go nowhere with him  
Get away from him  
Get away get away get away_

"Can you hear me?" Something about his voice… the smothering clouds yielded the smallest tunnel, to the warmth of a forgotten sun…

"Go away," she mumbled back. Blood from her mouth hit the floor.

"I'm taking you to Medical," he said. "Can you stand?"

"No." (No, she couldn't stand; no, she wasn't going.) "No Medical."

"Then where do you live?"

 _"No."_ She wouldn't tell him where she lived even if she _did._ Definitely wouldn't admit she was homeless. (On this fucking station, and so much more profoundly… for the third fucking time…)

"You can't stay here. I'm not leaving you."

 _Well, I'm not going with you._ …But something kept her, this time, from saying it. Something beyond the growing difficulty to speak or be conscious.

He tried a few more times. At last, through her deteriorating consciouness, she felt him put his arms around her. She didn't even fight when he scooped her up off the floor.

_Fine. I wanted someone to finish me off. Might as well be an Imperial._

…But that was the justifying thought after the fact. What she actually felt in that moment wasn't a death wish or absence of care. It was…

…fundamentally…

_You know how to wear that Imperial uniform. Guess you've done it before_

…knowing: he was, beyond seeming, in deeper truth, safe.

_nothing to do with the man in white_

And deciding to trust.

_Almost-Sward and Never-now-Ponta._

She faded in and out as he carried her. She faded in when he opened a door and laid her down on a bed. She faded in again when, murmuring in her ear and with soft touches, he urged her to sit up. She drifted back and forth as he… gently, painstakingly, treated her every wound. Wiping the blood from her mouth, face, hands; resetting her broken nose and dislocated shoulder and jaw, with such expertise that it wasn't as painful as she thought it always had to be; cleaning, numbing, and dressing every abrasion; applying palliative thermal and acupressure pads that were _not_ standard issue, had to be from his own (definitely Imperial) kit… so, though she never focused her awareness, it ambiently bled in on her that the bleak, drab room they were in was his.

When he finally stopped mending her, and he held up the bedclothes for her to crawl under, she dragged herself onto the pillows and was beyond caring that, Imperially, he was surely about to slide in after her and press himself against her. _Payment for his aid._ She'd fought off everyone who'd ever tried, but not now. She wouldn't fight him. _Go on. Finish what they… I… started._

He didn't. He tucked the blankets in around her. He might have left the room, for all she felt or heard from him. After a while, and maybe a spell of unconsciousness, she managed to open one bruised eye. A shadow subtly moved, as if reading a datapad, while sitting in a chair against the opposite wall _No… seriously? You're actually going to… stay… ?_

Perhaps she was hallucinating. Conjuring someone kind because she needed it so badly out of a universe that never complied. Maybe she'd succeeded in getting the thieves to beat her badly enough she could escape into hallucination. That was probably it. Hideous reality would dawn again at some point or she'd drift beyond recovery.

Either way… fine. She'll take this right now. The thrashing she'd wanted as punishment for surviving. When Hadder and Akshaya left their homestead on Skuhl for her and died to help her escape from the war that always followed her and they didn't deserve to be killed by. When they were supposed to be here with her right now and instead they would never be anywhere again. She'd never talk to them or hug them or get Akshaya's advice or Hadder's kiss or the feeling of family ever again and served her right for allowing it once more when it always ended terribly and fuck the Empire and fuck the Alliance who didn't care who got in the middle of their war and never again nothing nothing nothing at all from now on, no love, no belief, no cause, none of it, it's over, leave me alone, let me sink into nothing and vanish away. And in that undeservedly soft bed, enveloped by bandages and blankets and cushions and shielding walls and silent security and her mysterious protector watching over her, she wept and shivered and curled in tight and wept and wept and wept again, often without tears, only shaking, for this fresh loss and all the older ones.

_I didn't want you to, but you've saved my life._

Why did this play as it had…  
When every other meeting had been only when it wouldn't take anyone else's place, not displant anything that had really been there…  
why was this as it had actually been…

_Was that really you?  
Does it matter?  
I choose it being you._

_…that **was** you. Really. It was you._

* * *

Saw had brought Idryssa to talk to Jyn about… the things that she was grateful Saw himself wasn't trying to say. Then, continuingly grateful that he never brought them up. It worked in that Jyn wasn't terrified when those things _happened_ —just profoundly irritated at the extra, unwanted complication on her already tangled life. At least she knew now how to tend to these things on her own.

(And, determinedly overwrite Idryssa's face and voice over what, in another lifetime, ~~should~~ might have been Lyra's.)

Idryssa hadn't been able to prepare her for everything. You can't ever fully prepare for things that involve anyone else.

In a way, it was Saw's domain. Her combat training. That did the trick. It just… was also…

It was the first time Jyn Gerrera had… had… a _dream,_ like that—

(of a man she'd never met [yet], with fathomless brown eyes that crinkled and warmed the sun when he too-rarely smiled)

—she woke in terror, looking desperately around to make sure no one had noticed. Had her body moved while she wasn't aware of it—wanting stimulation beyond what her brain could conjure—even when it tried, the parts of her demanding it knowing they weren't actually receiving?

She didn't _have_ dreams like that. It wasn't something she wanted nor could reconcile with her thoughts of herself. Even if she would, they weren't safe. Not in the privacy of her own mind and not in the waking world. If her movements bled over, brought attention… She'd barely started puberty and already knew it was a profoundly unsafe condition in a guerilla cell. If she could have put it off—or better, skipped right past to where she was bigger and stronger, but lose the characteristics that made anyone look at her and think _gender_ not just _fighter_ …

When Saw had given her the datapad and said, (for anything other than fighting,) _You'll have to teach yourself…_ To start it had been history and science and culture, like her parents had intended. But of course, after Idryssa's help, like a good researcher, Jyn had gone further. Nothing had seemed to apply to her then. Now, she took a utilitarian view; wondered if learning to masturbate might be a kind of _defense,_ innoculation, ward off such dreaming. (She certainly didn't want an actual waking partner. If she _had_ to add _sexuality_ to the list of demands upon her, then, dammit, it would only be her own.

…even if the brown-eyed man had been real.)

But that didn't solve it entirely. Privacy was only to be found when stolen, and then usually in a _more_ vulnerable, unsecured location. And nothing tended to get you more quickly attacked, in any amount of ways, than being caught with your pants literally down.

Nor was it shyness, exactly, that kept her from gratifying herself in a space with others asleep. (Because of course _someone_ always wasn't; kark knows how many of her comrades she'd heard panting out their efforts in the night.) It was that even among supposed teammates, _allies,_ it was hard enough keeping her body to herself—rather, _their_ bodies to _themselves._ Some had the idea that she _wasn't_ solely hers. Violation was so horrifically devalued, one way or another, for all of them. All had their own ways of integrating that fact. Maybe it could be seen as a credit to Sentience that it was so very few who decided to _adopt_ it. _(If you can't beat them…)_ But all it took was a few. If any of them caught Jyn showing any arousal at all, they'd imitate the forest animals who only waited for such signs to force themselves.

…And the most petrifying thought, to her, was… if she was caught in her own imagining, would she _notice_ right away? to fight them off?! Better to dream sexlessly… better not to dream at all. Then if anyone tried anything on her, she'd wake immediately and with appropriate violence. Her success in fending someone off helped keep anyone else away. Break that record and… maybe she would wind up one of them, reconciling it with herself by inflicting it, in turn, on others…

The first time it inevitably happened, she pretended, in daylight, not to know who it had been. Saw would have literally killed him. And Jyn didn't particularly care about his life, but she also was adamant—for herself, as well as him—to be perfectly clear: _you can't have me because **I** won't let you._ No one else was required. So no one else's absence or obliviousness was an opportunity. Jyn was always there to guard herself.

So that first time—with the supposed fucking _team-mate,_ with cold uncrinkled blue eyes, the body and weight and scraping stubble and dehumanized grunts of a full-grown adult; and she, thirteen—she knew exactly what to do. First, avoid psychological capture: don't be knocked down by the Human reflexes to _flee, flop, freeze,_ or _friend._ Look what a good self-teacher she was: she'd successfully preprogrammed herself to make sure the reflex she did have would be _fight._ Her hand darted out, grabbed his balls with fingers made into claws—the first time she'd ever touched anyone else's privates, but when the point is _brutality,_ you can pretend to know how. He yelped and whimpered and (yes, turn it around on him) froze. She hissed in his ear, "Never mention this, never try again, or the next time you see these will be on two cords: around Saw’s neck and mine."

She'd pretended, once he scampered away, to simply turn over and go back to sleep. In the ~~_…safety? no, not for so long and never again_~~ isolation of her mind, she _ran,_ tearing through the darkness into the forest, gasping and screaming and weeping and feeling like her insides were falling out, everything inside her seeping through her holes (pores to…), and she didn't understand why knowing how to defend herself and succeeding at it wasn't enough to keep her from feeling so violated in a new way.

Then the brown-eyed man was there. Not as she'd dreamed him; he was younger, her age. He didn't try to touch her. He just sat, not too close, close enough to listen; when she looked up and said, "Will it always feel like this?" Because it _would_ happen again. And again.

"I don't know," he said. "I should. But it's not the same every time even for the same person."

"I hate it," she said. "Why is it so different from fighting?"

"Maybe… because other fighting has… other rules… other purpose? And about physical victory. This is about trying to change how _you_ feel about, within, yourself."

"I hate it," she said. "I beat him. He lost. I don't want him to win anyway. I don't want to think of him when I ever try anything myself. Or with someone I choose."

And she realized she was _angry._ Because…

Finally admitting the impossible now, showing the cracks, letting the contradictions sit side-by-side. She had more important concerns than to hold it back. She knew in this vision what she _would_ later know. She'll lose her so-called 'virginity' with Hadder. She'll tell Cassian that with a strange reluctance. Because of all her sexual history—mostly her fending off these kinds of advances, an occasional decision made for reasons other than what she wanted but still on her terms—Hadder alone was the experience, the partner, she wouldn't have traded for Cassian if she could. And Cassian will say, _Of course I'm jealous—I wish it had been me. I wish I'd known you all my life and got to share all the beautiful parts of yours. But I'm glad that he was good to you and you didn't have to nearly die before getting to love._

Now, she realized— " _This_ was my first sexual experience with anyone else. And that… _ **sucks mud**._ I did exactly what I meant to, but I shouldn't have had to. I don't want this to be the first."

The teenage Rebel agent, with the dreamed-of brown eyes, heavily nodded. "I'm being trained for sex before I've had it. When I do, for the first time, it's with an older team-mate… sort of an initiation, sort of dubious training, mostly them using me for distraction."

She frowned so hard it hurt.

Her waking life, she'd always distrusted perspective—mostly others' but also her own. She always teeth-grittingly sought the _real._

Now was a moment of revelation.

When she realized and _said:_ "Let's change it."

He looked flummoxed. "What?"

"Being assaulted, even if I did how I wanted in stopping it, shouldn't be my first time. Being treated like… like an _object_ shouldn't be yours. We won't erase these experiences. But what if we… _preceed_ them? With something, someone, we chose, instead? What if adding a partner could've been continuing our own educations, rather than a _test?_ What if… it could be… nice? Getting to learn with a… friend?"

Suddenly uncertain, she blinked anxiously at him. "What do you think?"

"It's already happened," he said after a stunned pause.

"Not if we decide it didn't," she said. "Not here."

Now he fully showed/admitted his awareness of the construct as well. "You were thirteen? I was fifteen. That's less of a difference than we… linearly… have, and an even bigger difference than when we're full grown."

"So let's not be any age." She reached for him. He reached back. Their hands met. The construct held.

"Let's not know what the hell we're doing," she said. "Let's be awkward and ludicrous and laugh a lot and have false starts and lose momentum and be goofy and random and you can come too soon and I'll not come at all or maybe the other way around 'cause there are no rules. Let's explore. Let's be the opposite of violent. Let's even be the opposite of _practiced._ Let's just… be… _interested._ 'Cause we _can._ We don't have to be passengers in any of this. Let's drive.

"…Does that sound okay?"

"That sounds amazing," he and his body said at the same time.

So they did.

* * *

In two different shuttles, two different times: Saw Gerrera gave Orphan Erso one last look at Lah'mu; and Orphan Andór didn't look as the Separatist who'd saved him flew them from Carida.

They, emptied, bloodless, severed, gazed at each other across time and space. Everything they'd known was abruptly gone. Nothing about the future was imaginable. All they had was an unprecedented knowledge of how much pain could happen in a moment—which meant there were suddenly no limits on how much _more_ could happen any time. If they would even feel it on top of what could never possibly get better.

But when they'd gone through it before, there had only been Saw, trying to look reassuring and instead murmuring, "What am I going to do with you…?" And the Separatist saying, "The life you're in for… There's no way to explain to you. There's no way to make it your choice."

Now, they looked at each other. It would take so much more courage and generosity and _hope_ than the last few hours had left either of them, if they had to think about it; but they did it through blind, instinctual need—and having done it always. They reached for each other and grasped hands.

 _I can't be there right now,_ either or both echoed, mirrored, together. _But I will be. Wait for me. You'll see. We will be so we are._

* * *

shaak-girl and ash-rabbit  
Lah'mu ; Carida  
child Partisan ; child Separatist  
Gerrera Junior ; Junior Rebel  
Tanith Ponta ; Joreth Sward  
Liana, Kestrel ; Black, Fulcrum  
_Jyn , Cassian_

_everyone's left me, so I won't give anyone else the chance; all I have is myself_ —immediate, nihilistic, no larger plan than _survive_ (ignore the plentiful exceptions where she did risk herself to help someone more helpless). A big picture maybe petty but individual acts more clean. She kept her integrity, but had only herself.

 _I've left everyone, I can't deserve anyone after what I've done; ignore myself, everything else is what matters_ — big picture noble, sweeping, but individual acts… tangled to grotesque. He had the Alliance but became monstrous.

the times they killed  
defended  
attacked  
premeditated  
hunted  
lied  
lost  
abandoned  
broke faith  
used people  
didn't save them  
told terrible truth  
stayed silent  
went where they shouldn't  
turned their backs

This time, they saw it outside themselves. They saw it as each other.

And even the ones that made them stifle screams and stare through tears, both gave each other their turn to think, _Wait… that's… really…? That's… that… makes **sense**. I remember it—I remember **me** —being so much worse…_

Even at expense of each other— _You might as well be a stormtrooper. You don't know what you're talking about._ Less monstrosity. More compassion. For themselves.

The next circle. In a way, harder. To admit, to own, to choose to share without the justification of being prompted. (But still _invited_ ) Moments they'd _liked_ themselves. They were _proud_ of. How dare they, insupportable in light of the rest—but…

When Liana helped that child, when Willix helped one too, when Nari tricked the hunters into chasing their own tails, when Aasch diverted attention onto himself, whenever they did something _good,_ especially when the object of their care never knew. They showed those to one another, too, and the other was _glad_.

_I forgive your hating yourself. I also forgive your liking yourself._

_Do it more._

_Look; here's how._

Then there were moments where they would have disagreed with one another. Moments where they _wouldn't_ have understood the other. Moments where they would have laughed or been frustrated or angered. But all those _still unified. Still together. Sameness is not required; agreement is not required. I'm still with you. I'm still on your team. I still want you to be okay. It doesn't undo the rest. I still love you._

The hardest yet: the moments when they'd been helpless,  
beaten,  
in such pain  
that they could never fully integrate  
and _never_ wanted to put it on anyone else.  
_Don't pity me. Don't absolve me. Don't hurt for me. Please.  
Don't be hurt by my hurting._

…Except that was called _empathy_   
Sharing the experience _was_ to share the hurt  
but that did not multiply it.  
That did not inflict it.  
_Denying_ it was to multiply and inflict.  
Sharing it:  
The opposite.

 _When they tortured you when they raped you when they imprisoned you when they tried to break you when they broke you when they won when you didn't learn in time when you didn't stand back up  
_ _I won't pretend it doesn't hurt me too  
good  
we stay together  
I can't take it from you, for you  
but you stay with me and I stay with you  
I can take it  
Trust me  
Don't shut me out  
**I** **can take it  
**Let me  
With you_

And then: no theme or justification. Just all the moments they couldn't believe the other hadn't seen; they wanted them to have; wanted to share.

_but you **were** there; you were **there**_

And

then

reciprocal  
entry

merging together beyond projection, beyond perception  
not memory, not mind, bodies too, making love taken quantum,  
like their armor and skin and cell membranes suddenly absorbed together

They were pulverized, atomized, on the Scarif beach, and their molecules sifted together into one another's empty spaces

Like joining the Force (like _Death_ ) but preserving consciousness, preserving enough sense of _self_ to be _aware_ of _joining_ , and each other, and of _choice._

_Yes please this yes_

They didn't have digits or hands or limbs and yet s/he reached out and s/he took hold and they pressed together even in their unity and anything that was left that they hadn't mutually shown blew apart, bursting their separate space and joining with the rest, and there was nothing they didn't know, nothing they couldn't see or feel, things that could not be held or contained in mere mortal brains but they'd know they'd known _once_ and someday would again, it would be there waiting for them when they were ready to reaccept this state, and it made them love the limited condition all the more while shedding their fear of losing it, because this was not oblivion, not obliteration, it was interbeing the uttermost _oneness_

_I am with the Force and the Force is with_

Father's Child threw himself over Father's too-still body as something around them exploded. The blaster fell from his hand and clattered away. Good, go away, it had proved itself worse than useless when he'd tried to defend Father with it. He understood in that moment what it meant for something to be a toy. In other words, _a **lie**_

Then there was Her, grabbing his hand and telling him, "He's gone, leave it, leave it, come with me." But when the Child raised his head, nearly blind with shock and confusion, he found himself looking into the face of another child: one with star-flecked green eyes. And she nodded, mouthing, _Go on!_ And that was what let him scramble to his feet, and grasp the Separatist's hand back, and run with her.

Mama's Daughter sat in silence and shock. After hours of flickers nursed by her fists, the lantern had finally gone out. She was left in crushing darkness.

If they'd given up looking for her, if they'd flown away, then she, right now, was the only living person on this planet. Because…  
_Dead. That was what Dead looked like. That was what Mama Dead looked like_  
And she couldn't save them and they couldn't save her and they were never coming back

In the darkness, out of nothing, where no one had been—yet without startling or frightening her one bit, like it was the most natural thing in the world, little Cassian sat beside little Jyn.

There were no words for any of it. Out of everyone in the entire Galaxy, they, two, knew that. He gently picked the dead lantern from her hands and replaced it with his hands. They held on in the dark, not speaking. Eventually, she rested her head on his shoulder. It was comforting, but even more was when he rested his head upon hers. And they rested on each other. They sat and didn't speak but gave each other the knowledge: they wouldn't always be alone.

in the dark  
alone  
together

until

* * *

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

* * *

Jyn bolted, gasping. Every cell of her pounded, bones and heart and blood. She hadn't realized she'd sat upright. She was made aware of it by two things:

(1) Bodhi and Leia grabbing her to keep her from falling back over, as her weakness hit her and she swayed.

(2) the sight of Kay and Baze doing the same to Cassian

who'd been stretched out to mirror her; now also upright,

and who, for the first time in a year, had color in his face and lack of struggle in his breath.

Jyn stared, at Cassian, at Bodhi, at Leia, at Kay, at Baze and Chirrut and Luke.

Cassian looked back. He inhaled experimentally, and his (still brown) eyes widened.

She lunged over and threw her arms around him. It laid them both flat again on the medical slab where they'd been side-by-side.

For Luke and the others, now laughing and crying, to join them in the Force.

For however long, for whatever it would "ultimately" mean,

for showing

there was _**no**_ "ultimately" at all.


	18. now, then, next

Outside Hanna City, near Lake Andrasha, rolling hills quilted the way to the Silver Sea  
and droids setting a vast projection screen gleamed against the sky.

They'd been invited personally to the ceremony. They chose to be out here instead. For some, it was the excuse to stay with comrades who would be triggered by the city's crowds and fireworks. Many didn't want the attention of their own legends. —or maybe it was, out here, they didn't have to wait to start drinking. Chairs were prepped, but this was Chandrila. Most opted to sit right in the balmgrass. They sprawled, napped, picnicked, and drank (and drank and drank and). The veterans of the Rebellion looked more like an Ewok’s picnic.

The special treatment they did accept was the live remote feed. For a few more hours, the screen would show celebrations around the city, from friends at cafés to full parades. At sunset, all cameras would convene on Mon Mothma’s inaugural address as the first elected Chancellor of the New Republic.

Kay and Jyn had set their group a blanket on a rearward hill. Others kept coming to talk to them, and kept freezing at the absence of two. Bodhi assured them that Jyn and Cassian were just stretching their legs. Kaytoo got sick of it and suggested making a sign. When the others vetoed, Kay started announcing, every time someone came within a meter of them, "Colonel Andor and Agent Erso have gone away to fornicate." They reconsidered a sign.

Four hills over, Cassian put his face to the curve of Jyn's neck and breathed out.

They'd walked to the lake—without stopping, without her supporting him, without his lips turning blue. They sat and watched sky and water reflect each other. Neither had kept so still and silent without being in hiding, since they could remember. When Jyn's eyes flickered to Cassian, she saw his hollowed-out face, but also the ease of his breath and clearness of his dark eyes. Now, pushing himself yielded progress, not just cost. He could get out of breath and catch it again. If he had pain, he knew why. He'd never be as he was, and that was, truly, now, all right. Neither of them would be. It was all right.

Lying entwined, Jyn pressed her lips to Cassian's cheek. "Question."

He bent his head. "Answer?"

Pfassk, he's cute. "Tell me a joke."

( _Not a question,_ Kay's echo pointed out.)

Cassian said, "Why don't you see shaaks hiding in trees?"

Jyn scoffed. "Because they're so good at it. C'mon! A hard one."

He thought of a conversation with Leia that felt so long ago, and one with Kay that might have happened. "How many relativity theorists does it take to fix a rotor?"

"…How many?"

"Two. One to hold the rotor and one to turn the universe."

She shook her head. "Did the rest of the Rebellion know their superspy was such a _nerd?"_

"The guy whose only confidante was a droid? No, no one."

Her smile went somber and tender. "Does Kaytoo mind? How I've" _stolen_ "monopolized you?"

His hand smoothed over her arm. "Has he made you think so?"

"Not lately. I guess I'm thinking of the first time around." She traced Cassian's face. "I wondered if he just wasn't used to sharing you, or if he actually thought I was a threat."

"He thought you were a threat," said Cassian. "Since he reclassified you as 'good for me', he's been going to lengths to make sure we're alone together."

Jyn's lips parted in a captivating (kissable) grin. "Awww, Kay…! he _did_ think I was a threat!"

Cassian lying-down tackled her. For a while, they were otherwise occupied. At last, he fell back and brushed her hair with his lips. "You go."

She picked one she'd planned never to ask. "When you first saw me. In the situation room. What did you think?"

"That wasn't the first time I saw you. I watched when you landed with Melshi and Kay. And I'd seen your file."

She lifted her eyebrow to brush his skin. "Okay. When we landed, then."

He shifted in the balmgrass to close his arm more perfectly around her. "I wondered how I'd profiled you so wrong. And why I couldn't put my finger on _how_ I was wrong. Out of all the people I'd ever seen… You were… like… a neutron star. This bright, tiny galactic body with so much compressed inside. The universe bent to you. You had this… need. I almost asked Draven to reassign me. Any path I walked with you, I knew there'd be no coming back."

Jyn said at last, "No hindsight coming to play there?"

"No. It was memorable. Thank the Force. I didn't say it."

She kissed his forehead fiercely. His lashes tickled her lips. His breath brushed her skin when he said, "Same question."

"Nothing so deep. I liked your eyes." Especially when they crinkled—just like that. "You looked familiar, though I knew you couldn't. I could tell what game you were playing, and you were alarmingly good at it, so I'd have to play it back and never, ever trust you. But, pfassk, you were… magnetic. And infuriating. And so uptight controlled. The idea of making you crack… Pretty sure my exact thought was, _Oh, fuck, he'll be trouble."_

His smile kissed to her neck made her finish, "I wondered… what it might be like… to… do… something, to you."

He laughed; voiceless, as always, but so good to feel in his back, under her hands, with his renewable breath. "Do I have to wait another turn to ask 'what thing'?"

She turned them both and put his head back in the grass. She whispered, "Just this." —running her fingers through his hair.

He looked back like he was breathing her; like he never wanted to look at anything else; like… she didn't know what like, only that it made her feel welcomed home. He strained up to give her another kiss. When he lay back, she went beside him.

"We can skip ahead," he said. "To whatever you really want to ask."

Jyn ceded it. "How much do you remember? Of… our… the…"

Even having done it, it was a bit much for her, for them, to say the words 'Force vision'.

"Not as much as I'd like." He searched the sky. "What I do, doesn't all come together in ways I can make sense of."

"Trying to translate a dream once awake."

"The impossibility of holding death in a living mind."

"Dark!" she reproved. —without dread. They couldn't now access what it was like, but they remembered that, whatever it would be, it wasn't fearsome.

"I'm glad," he said.

"Glad you forgot?"

"No… Glad that I still get to ask. And hear you answer."

The slightest wind made tiny waves in the water at the shore.

"The medics can't say how long either of us have, now," said Jyn.

"I know."

"We can't… plan."

"No one ever can. When did we, ever?"

She traced his features again. Those eyes, those cheekbones, the more-than-once-broken nose; mouth that was usually so studiedly set, but right now— "It would be nice not to live solely 'moment-by-moment'. For once. Behave as if there is a future. While enjoying the present."

"I've heard, in stories, those can go together." His hand mirrored hers in gently tracing the inside of her arm.

Jyn looked him in the eye. "I can't promise I'm going to be remotely good at it."

"I can promise I won't be."

_kyber and obsidian; gravity and magnetism; kestrel and rabbit_

_He was on Yavin 4, Dantooine, Coruscant; he was on Alderaan, Jelucan, Sullust; Storm 4, Chemvau, Varadan; Kafrene, Eadu—even Scarif and Jenoport; he was on all of them because he had been, but they were better because he knew he now was and so had been with her._

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Nowhere. Everywhere. But you were there."

"No. I'm here. And so're you."

He wrapped her up anew and pulled them close. They kissed deep; she retangled her fingers in his hair, hooking one leg around him; only pressed herself harder as they both felt him reacting.

Cassian drew back barely enough to whisper, "We're in the open."

"Mmhmm," Jyn agreed and claimed his lips again.

The first time they'd tried, he'd panicked. The second, she'd wept. He wasn't lost in the past nor she in the future, now.

She rolled them together, putting him on top. She rode from below, grinding up into him, pushing them together 'til his fingers clutched into her shoulders and he had to stop lavishing her neck so he could breathe.  
His hands mapped her clothes; raising his eyes to hers, as he always sought confirmation. She gave it by opening his clothing, too. They left layers between themselves, the sky and the ground; but open in front, so there was nothing between _them._  
He put his fingers on her, softly meticulous, like they had all the time in the world. She wrapped her hand around him with the kind of protectiveness that had become inextricable from her tenderness: anything she loved had to be defended. They set to their work on each other, followed each other's bucks and waves; breathing and riding, trying to maintain any dexterity while each other's made them spread, dissolve, driving into the light they were expanding with each other's movements and sounds…

He turned onto his side, slipping himself out of her grasp. If she'd needed to question it, she'd had to have done it already, before he redoubled the efforts of his hand and put his mouth to her breast. She arched to him, digging her heels in the ground, cupping herself to bear him on. Her hand went to his face, his hair, holding on and she arched, crowning cresting, and the sound she let out when she crashed over the edge nearly made him come after all in the grass.

He eased his finger off but left his hand there, to hold her above and below as she flowed back down. She sighed and lolled and he folded her into his corners, hugging her close. Her hand drifted to his hip, to drape there: loose, protecting.

"No one else has ever managed that, with me," she murmured into his neck. "I thought only I could… make… myself."

"That's normal for a lot of people." He brushed his face into her hair. "You know I'll cope when I can't, right? Neither of us has to come for it to be good. Sex isn't just its ending."

Her grin into his throat was wicked—like when they'd said about something else, _gotta rebuild stamina after six months in bed;_ possibly covering some embarrassment, and also… love. "Yes. I… know that. With you."

 _(We don't credit the Force as a_ cause. _If we did, we would have to curse it as much as thank it. But if we can choose and find our ways to flow with, not against, it… oh how it can deepen and reveal still more)_

"—But," whispered Jyn, grazing his ear with her teeth, "if you don't mind, right now, I'd like to make you, anyway."

He curved to her, lean and hard, with a lovely tremor. She pushed his shirt back off his shoulders, dragging her fingers over the constellations of scars.

_(Where they whipped you  
where they burned you  
where they carved and bore into you  
they thought they were signing you  
they were wrong  
You survived You defied  
Now I claim you, for you, too)_

_(When she'd slung her leg over him again, and reached to align him, he'd microscopically shaken himself and whispered, "I didn't mean you have to—"_

_"Shhhh. Stop doubting my choices just 'cause they're the same as yours.")_

_(She would know him with every sense she had, and keep adding to them until she had to invent new ones.)_

_You don't need to shield me from you.  
Needing me is not using me.  
Needing you is not surrendering myself._

She moved him against her, a little inward, a little deeper; relishing the feeling and the way it changed his breath; not expecting to get him further from this position… but when he kissed her and twisted just so, he slipped from her hand and fully inside. There was no resistance, muscle or tissue, it didn't hurt at all. Just _welcome— welcome._

With almost hesitant care, she wrapped her legs around him again, as he folded her into his arms; and she rolled them again so she lay on the slope of the hill and he covered her. All times before, including Hadder, she always made sure to be on top, for fear or necessity, not to be trapped. And she would enjoy that with Cassian, too: able to look down as she took control… but right now, it was marvelous that being below didn't render her powerless; it felt natural in that moment to face the sky and take it all in. Take him into her like the sunlight he'd forgotten he was. Hold him like the home neither could find but somehow made.

She let her head fall back in the balmgrass, her face full to the sun. His head fell beside hers, his nose and lips touching her cheek. She turned her face; they utterly stilled, looking at each other.

She let her lips smile. His eyes smiled back.

_kyber, obsidian . gravity, magnet . kestrel, rabbit . me you_

Their lips met. They moved together. They birthed an ocean and rode it to the horizon. The depths had no horror, the breaking no limit; into the air and below the waves; the feel of him and her… now… _mine… home_

When he gasped into the side of her neck and shiverflooded into her, she hugged him with all of herself; rose to his pulsing inside of her; wasn't sure if she came again or just… loved. A surge of visceral, thrilling, love.

(Well, they don't _have_ to be separate, after all.)

They kissed, just another of so many revelations; lay back together, now formlessly, quantum entangled.

They talked and napped and coupled again, and again and, until he physically couldn't come any more and she just overloaded; and, as they spoke, they kept lightly touching each other anyway, until the sunlight changed color, and the sky followed suit.

Now, he finished massaging her ring of muscles with his tongue—soothing them from overuse, as somehow wouldn't have occurred to her, but sure enough, any sting was gone—and kissed up her stomach, up her ley lines to her lips. "We don't have to see anyone. We can go straight back, to bed."

She caught his lip in her teeth. "No. Ash-brain. You are watching that karking speech, that you gave so much for. …Which is gonna start any time now." She caught his hands in hers, pulled herself upright by them, kissed him, and pushed him into the water. He reemerged, sputtering, grabbed her, and she embraced him as they kissed one more time.

"We'll come here again," she said, handing him his dry clothes, ruffling his wet hair. "Right now, let's go back."

* * *

"Here's good," said Jyn, kneeling down _(—three hours ago)._

"For the blanket?" said Kay. "Or to adjust to your new locomotive thresholds?"

"For the blanket," said Jyn, covering how she flexed her aching legs. Since they'd done it, she had discovered new difficulties; pains and tiredness.

Count on Kay's sympathy: "You should have expected it."

"I did. Kind of. There are things nobody can understand until they happen." She gestured imperiously. "But I don't regret it. Blanket, there."

Kaytoo spread the groundcover with more ease and precision than a nondroid, or anyone with shorter limbs. "If that isn't why you wanted to speak to me, what is?"

"Why do you think I want to speak to you?"

"You insisted that you and I do this ahead of the others. They'll be catching up to us soon so I recommend you stop wasting time with transparent denials."

"I hadn't planned it out," said Jyn, standing upright again, and this time openly pressing her hand to her aching back. "I just… want to tell you… I appreciate you, Kay."

Kaytoo stared.

"No one in my life had ever come back for me," said Jyn. "Until Cassian. I understand more how true that is for him, too. But he did come back to me. So many times—this time in particular—it was because you came back to him. None of this would have worked out like this, without you. Thank you."

Kay still was silent. Jyn wondered if she'd gotten good at reading him or was just projecting onto him: that he seemed… stunned.

"It's astute of you to notice," said Kay at last. Then added, "I was literally remade to help Cassian. I could only ever do so to the extent he allowed himself to be helped. That allowance has expanded considerably since he… 'came back' for you. Which means… how it's 'worked out'… is at least partially reciprocal."

Jyn felt an unaccustomed warmth in her own gaze at him. "That's sort of an obvious statement for someone with your processing power, isn't it?"

"You know what's intended," said Kay. If he were organic, the words would have been _Shut up._

Still smiling, Jyn offered her hand, and Kay took it.

* * *

_(—a week ago—)_ When she finally woke, it was Kaytoo watching, waiting for her.

"Is he alive?" were the first words out of Jyn's mouth.

"Yes," said Kay. He pointed. Jyn managed to turn her head and saw Cassian on a parallel cot. He was so thoroughly unconscious, she almost forgot what Kay had just said—but his chest was rising and falling steadily and, behind his lids, his eyes moved.

"I made him take sedatives," said Kay. "His state of panic was unsustainable."

"Panic?!"

"Over you." Kay pointed now to Jyn. Only then she noticed the drips and monitors she was hooked up to. "You've been asleep for three days. We've been monitoring you in case you started to exhibit Cassian's former symptoms. Make sure you hadn't just taken it all from him, onto yourself. You seem to be clear. You both are. You succeeded in sharing it and, so doing, diminished it for both of you."

_Sharing is not inflicting. Needing is not surrendering._

"But your vitals _have_ changed," Kay continued, never one to let optimism hang. "You'll require physical therapy before you're discharged, and you'll need to learn your new baselines. I hope you don't come to resent them."

"I won't," said Jyn. She let herself lie back, checking in with her body, breathing steadily. Then flashed another look at Kay. "Thanks for staying with me. To tell me."

"I'm staying with both of you," said Kay. "I consider my protection of Cassian extended to you, now."

In another state of mind, Jyn might have gaped. Right now, she was too tired… and content. The visions were drifting away, and that was okay; she didn't need to try to grasp onto them out of fear. They'd happened, and they'd be waiting for her. "Can you do one more thing for me?"

"I'm sure I can," said Kay. "I don't promise I will."

 _"Will_ you move our cots closer, please?"

Kay practically sighed. He pulled Cassian's cot by the rail to the side of hers. Then, to Jyn's biggest astonishment yet, he (gently) picked up Cassian's limp hand, held his other out for Jyn's, and placed both Human hands together.

"For when _he_ wakes up," Kay said.

For a moment, Jyn looked at their hands—hers grasping Cassian's and Kay's sandwiching them both—and wondered if, on some planet, this might count as a wedding.

* * *

"That lasted considerably longer than Human capability," said Kaytoo _(—now)._ "I guess it wasn't continuous?"

Cassian rolled his eyes.

Jyn said, "Wow, Kay, you just inspired me to learn all of _your_ mechanics so I can talk about them in public."

"Mine are more elegantly designed," said Kay primly. "Evolution is too opportunistic to be optimal."

"Does the trick, though," said Jyn.

Bodhi's eyes flashed to her with laughing shock. She grinned back. Because she'd thought she would mind, a lot—that they all knew. Now, she wasn't surprised she didn't. That Baze and Chirrut were completely unperturbed, and even Bodhi's blushes made her feel accepted. Kay just threw the rest into relief, binding it even stronger.

Cassian eased himself down and leaned back against Kay's braced arm. "You're the one who said she had positive effect on my vitals."

"Have you hydrated?" countered Kay. "Ingestion, not immersion."

Jyn accepted the canteen Baze passed her and drank deeply. She felt drained and suffused, heavy and light… soaringly full. She handed it to Cassian as she sank inside his waiting arm. It didn't feel strange to be together in front of the others, and both leaning on Kay. Everything just felt in place.

In the moment between the sun vanishing and the stars shining out, the screen at last stilled, and all of them were illuminated by the projection of a dais with a familiar white-clad figure.

All fell silent and rapt.

Mon Mothma spoke.

Bodhi saw the explosion caused by his delivered cargo. He saw fleeing people in Jedha's streets. He saw Galen's sad, haunted eyes. He saw his last living family holding each other to look away. He looked around at his new family and felt the old one to be protected by them, too.

Chirrut saw the sands of Jedha coalesce into stone, saw it rise and be crafted into colossal statues, saw their shadows circle the ground; saw them bombed and cracked, fall back over, dissolve back into sand; wait to be remade; and so did all matter and energy in the universe, flowing from place to place, momentarily coming together into people and things, eventually to rejoin the flow, and reform, and rejoin.

Baze took Chirrut's hand to be able to look past the moment of the destruction of their Temple, so he could see the rises and falls, flows and formations, too.

Kaytoo saw the speech and recorded it for them. He cited, notated, and cross-referenced every point automatically.

Cassian saw the woman holding out her hands to him on Jenoport. He saw Calid dropping his blaster. He felt Tivik's last heartbeat. He saw everything and everyone, and some part of his mind that was just a Human, thought of shouting _I'm sorry,_ while the rest of him that was Cassian knew: they couldn't, the dead couldn't forgive; they wouldn't, whether or not they'd even known who he was; and he needn't, whether or not even he could ever forgive himself; that was not the right question. He looked over at Jyn.

Jyn saw time backwards.  
Lyra fell in the grass. Lyra held up the kyber necklace. Lyra was teaching her to distinguish striations, telling her stories, showing her stars.  
Galen touched her face. Galen fell on the platform. Galen the hologram rewrote—no, restored her entire knowledge of the Galaxy and her life, after she and others had forced it into other shapes. Galen was holding her and calling her Stardust and showing her how to build beautiful mechanisms and making her fly in his arms.  
Saw metamorphosized from half-machine dependent on breathing tubes, all the way back to when Jyn first saw him—thinking then how grizzled and weathered he looked, seeing only now how young he'd really been.  
She saw Maia and Hadder and Akshaya and Idryssa and Reece and Codo and Blue and all of them, everyone she'd loved and hated and helped and ignored and wanted and lost, going backwards from the end to the beginning.  
And then, as everything did, she circled back. She looked over at Cassian.

Both would probably keep doing this—stop breathing to make sure the other still was—for the rest of their lives. Some behaviors, you can't shake. But, however long that was, they accepted it; they wouldn't lose it to the fear of losing it.

Like another shore, two lifetimes ago, her hand found his; his turned over to return her grasp; and they looked at the changing light. This time, it wasn't green, and wasn't coming for them for the end. It was the white robes of the new caretakers of the Galaxy they'd helped create, inviting them, for everything next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last: this is the end of the story—that kicked my butt with every chapter. <3 Thank you so much for sticking with me!
> 
> There might be an optional epilogue. Not sure yet. If so, it’ll have its own **content warnings.** Namely: **major character death,** since it'd jump ahead in time (many, many years!) to the end of their lives. I think the preceding chapters asked too many questions about that… not sure if it's better to leave them unanswered or not… Either way: if you don't want to read about that, **stop here.** :) This may be the better/right ending. It’s certainly the intended one.
> 
> If there is an epilogue, hopefully, the theme will hold true: things aren't just how they end and death isn't necessarily parting; it can still be a happy ending.
> 
> AGAIN, AN EPILOGUE WILL JUMP [FAR] AHEAD IN TIME TO END OF LIVES/MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, not without grieving even if ultimately (hopefully) happy, so STOP HERE if you're not feeling it! This is the intended ending.
> 
> And THANK YOU SO MUCH for coming with me on this fic, that proved to be so strange to me and different from anything I expected, but I hope has some stuff to it.


	19. [OPTIONAL EPILOGUE, has different content warnings than rest of fic]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: major character deaths, grief, (assisted?) suicide,** really hope I'm not pushing/glorifying/something suicide while trying to be accepting and treat end-of-life/right-to-die decisions as personal choice/bodily autonomy issues; hopeful death-is-not-the-end-esp.-with-the-Force HEA but still grief en route
> 
> This epilogue jumps (far ahead) to the end of the characters' lives. **If you don't want to read about that, THE FIC IS COMPLETE WITHOUT THIS.** The previous chapter is the intended (and possibly better) ending. I'm adding this 'cause I think previous chapters raise the question too much not to answer it—but it might be better/more on theme NOT to? …It's here if you want it. But ONLY if you want it.
> 
> Either way, thank you guys so much <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Other tag: vaguely reincarnationy spiritualism based on the first law of thermodynamics) But…
> 
> It worries me that writing/posting anything tends to carry tacit blanket endorsement, even if all I personally intend is unique to this particular character/situation. Also tricky… without judging individuals, historically I don't think believing in an afterlife has ever been a good reason for suicide. Really really really hope this chapter isn't saying any of that versus what's uniquely true for this character.
> 
> The main thing in my head is actually couples I've known (e.g. my grandparents, my partner's grandparents) where one dies and then the other does shortly after, not by suicide but clearly linked; lives so intertwined often do end together anyway. Again, not trying to pass any judgments… just thinking about that element of love and life and how it relates to these characters who've always both defied and accepted death, and how they can accept/reconcile love and loss in the face of it. Thoughts always welcome.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Cassian and Kaytuesso sat in the black sand.  
Cassian's back was to Kay's chestplate. One of Kay's hands, fitted years ago with medical-grade sensors, was on Cassian's wrist.

They sat watching.

Watching the water. Watching Jyn.

_This was **her** cove._

_'That's mine.'_

Cassian hadn't known how to send Bodhi away. He hadn't wanted Bodhi to fly them here at all. But Cassian said, _You should be with your family,_ and Bodhi just looked at him with an inarguable expression he'd learned, at last, (from Leia… from Baze… from Jyn,) and answered, _You're family, too, Captain Laserbrain._

Kay hadn't needed any help; Bodhi'd helped him and Cassian, anyway—to bring Jyn to this beach, and lay her in the surf. It was all Cassian could do not to lie down beside her and let the waves take him, too.

 _( Don't follow me,_ she'd whispered. _It doesn't matter—when you get here. I'll be here. I'll always be here. We both will. )_

Cassian had needed Kay's arm under his arms, Bodhi's hand on his hand, to pull him back to his feet; away, up the sand. And there, Kay held him back. As Cassian stared and fought his own misplaced instinct to _Save her. Before the waves could take her away. Pull her clear. Bring her back._

He whispered over and over, to them and himself, _"—don't let me run don't let me run—"_

That was hours ago. Kay no longer held him down. Cassian leaned against him, and they were alone. In generosity, Bodhi had decided on his own to go back to the ship, even obviously knowing this might be it.

Jyn's body had vanished into the sea.

"I think it was right," Cassian's voice rustled distantly again in his own ears, as it had before. "She doesn't care anymore—she never cared. But if it had to be somewhere. This is where her mother is."

He'd known to reject all irrational feelings of _finding_ something, someone, here. Maybe even, impossibly, her again.

_Knowing, as ever: not the same as **feeling**._

Jyn's body was gone. He couldn't hold it again if he'd wanted to—even if doing so when he knew it would decay, doing so when _she_ was no longer in it… _nono_  
But it didn't feel like compounding loss, as he'd wondered it might. It felt the opposite. It felt the smallest bit like restoration. The body hadn't been her. Instead of _her_ seeming so shrunken and finite in it, now, she was released again. She was unlimited.

And Cassian's desire came back stronger than before. Because now it would be so much more than merely hanging on to her empty shell. He could join her as the salt waves. Sink below them and be bedded with her there.

Maybe Kay's sensors picked up an otherwise undetectable change in Cassian's vitals. Maybe Cassian's feeling of distance from himself, his voice and body—another insufficient measure to go with her—made him oblivious to himself. Maybe the probabilities were that obvious. Kay just knew Cassian that well. For Kay to say in that moment: "She told you not to follow her."

Cassian felt Kay's metal, watched the grey Lah'musian waves, was still empty yet more present and calmed than he'd thought possible. "Jyn gets her choice. She doesn't get mine."

A silence. Then Kay finally said what he— _he (despite it coming into his circuits)_ —had been holding back. "Do you want me to do it?"

Cassian turned his head. Enough to communicate: _Still here, and here for you, now. You._ "What—kill me?"

If Kay ever sounded more emotional than many could credit a droid… this was not one of those times. "I could make it painless and instantaneous."

Cassian put the side of his head onto Kay's chest. "What would that do to _you?"_

Another pause.

Kaytoo said, "I'd rather not do it."

Cassian wrapped his hand around Kay's forearm. "Then don't."

"Am I failing you?"

"You have never failed me."

"But am I _now?"_

"No," said Cassian, eyes closed. "Remember? You get _your_ choice, too."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Cassian sat alone on the beach under the stars. The moon was bright as Kay's oculars; and three figures sat before him. Lyyxo's compound eyes were their own starfields. Leia had her forearms hanging loose, elbows on her knees. Linat's head was atilt.

"This is unexpected," said Lyyxo.

"I've never been here," said Leia.

"You don't know where I've been, at all," said Linat.

"Why us?" said Lyyxo.

In a world, Cassian should have tried to find… expression, for them. Voice, face, body. It wouldn't trouble anyone _here_ if he had none. "Bodhi wanted to take me on a… goodbye tour. It would have been good to see you. See how, where, you are. But… talking… standing, sitting, being myself… being anyone… I can't do it anymore. …But I'm glad you came. It _is_ good to see you."

"Why me?" they repeated.

"Not the others you might expect manifesting through the Force?" suggested Leia. "Chirrut, Baze, Draven, Bey…?"

"As far as you know, _we're_ all alive," said Linat.

"Because you're the ones we'll be leaving," said Cassian. "Them, I'll be joining."

"You believe that?" said Linat.

"He does, now," said Lyyxo.

"Does he really or does he just need to?"

"In this case, does that matter?"

Linat said "Yes" as Lyyxo said "No".

Leia looked at him intently, more astute than anyone still alive, more than most now dead. "It's okay to be angry," she said. "At her."

Linat's mouth tightened. Lyyxo nodded.

"I'm not." Cassian leaned back, exposing his throat to the not-air off the not-sea. "I'm really not. I'm glad."

"You're glad being the one to outlive?" said Linat.

"Almost never," said Lyyxo for him. "But this time…"

"I'm glad I got to hold her for it," he said. "After she had so many die in front of her, I'm glad I wasn't one of them. Glad I didn't do it to her, again."

Leia said softly, "As long as it's not for too long?"

It was good knowing he didn't have to argue it. But it seemed he did have to _say_ it—even like this. "I know there's a lot I could still find in life… and others to keep it for… but I'm so tired. I've been tired for so long. I was ready at Scarif. I was ready before she saved me. Each time. I only kept going… She kept me alive in every way. I don't need to serve anymore. Everyone will be okay. I just want to go home."

"To Lah'mu?" said Linat.

"Wherever she is," Lyyxo said.

Leia moved forward and placed her hand on Cassian's. The other two joined them.

"Whatever you have to do," she said. "As long as you know, as you're sure, of your choice."

He gripped their hands back. "I am."

She kissed his forehead. " 'Til next time."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"I remember," said Kay. "One or zero." To Cassian's dulled surprise, Kaytoo suddenly propped him forward, clear of Kay, and inspired him to hold his own weight one moment longer by putting his metal hand between them and holding something out.

In the center of Kay's 'palm' was a small, white pill.

"You told me to hang onto it for you," said Kay.

_Since the Force healing. Since, in every way, some preexisting, some now more literal than imagined, Cassian decided to consider his life not just his own, but (jointly) Jyn's._

Kay said, "It's past its expiration. It'll still work, but not immediately. And there might be hallucinations."

"Pain?"

"None. I made sure."

Cassian put out his hand to take it. Instead, he placed his palm over it, so it was flat to Kaytoo's, and curled his fingers. Kay curled his own fingers delicately back.

"What Luke said," said Cassian, feeling the most distant stir of feeling. "About the Force… not including you."

"Yes," said Kay. "This is probably eternal goodbye."

"Maybe he's wrong. Maybe there isn't such a thing. There aren't endings. Matter is never created or destroyed. Energy always returns and reforms."

"The Force seems to have its own laws not entirely based in Physics," said Kay. "It's okay. We don't have to know for sure. You're never not part of me."

"Thank you, Kay. Me, too.

"Please tell Bodhi. I love you both."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

He'd told Kay to join Bodhi and fly away without waiting. He knew Kay would disobey. Would come back to check, if he wasn't just staying somewhere in range with his sensors on Cassian, now.

 _Whatever you need._ Cassian got his own choices. So did everyone else.

Cassian thought of them all again. He knew they knew. They'd be okay.

(A sudden image of Bodhi's grandkids playing with Kaytoo, who'd stopped pretending he didn't love it.)

And even when they weren't okay… there were no endings. Matter, energy, the Force, never stopped flowing. Everything came and went and came back around.

He stepped to the edge of the sand. His bare foot hit the water.

There she was, before him.

She considered him, in silence, a long, long moment. Then shook her head in exasperation.

"I can't stop you, can I?" she said.

"If you really want me to," he said. "I'll do it for you. But for you, not for me. This is what I want. I want to be with you."

"You _are,"_ she said. "You are always."

"I know," he said. "I _know_ that. But I want to _feel_ it. I want to rest, Jyn. With you."

She looked at him like she was breathing him, like she never wanted to look at anything else, like… he didn't know what like, only that it made him feel _welcome_ —

Jyn's lips creased in a resigned, annoyed, adoring lopsided smile. "Come on, then."

She held out her hand. Cassian took it. Their fingers twined like intergrowing trees. 

All of them sifted, filling each other's corners. They faced each other, pressing-blurring together. Her smiling eyes filled him with light. And when Jyn kissed Cassian, everything fell away. He felt only her. They arched together euphorically, and burst… and drifted like a sigh, in peace.

Together—Whills, Force, her and him—they slipped over the waters in the silver light.


End file.
